Much More to Tell
by SpyKate
Summary: Immediately post-“The Telling”. Syd and Vaughn go back to Los Angeles and are forced to confront the truth of living their lives with and without each other. ** COMPLETE **
1. Revelations

Disclaimer: Nope - don't own a thing, except for the ideas for these little fanfics that are so deliciously fun to play around with.  
  
Title: Much More to Tell  
  
Summary: Immediately post-"The Telling". Syd and Vaughn go back to Los Angeles and are forced to confront the truth of living their lives with and without each other.  
  
** Please R & R ** I gain momentum and inspiration from any and all opinions.  
  
******  
  
Chapter One: Revelations  
  
For the second time in 48 hours, Sydney Bristow awoke uncertain of her surroundings. She rolled from her back to her side, blinking away remnants of sleep as the room came into focus and memory came sliding back with crushing authority. Sydney audibly moaned.  
  
She sat up slowly, her back stiff and painful from a night spent on a metal slab padded with nothing more than a thin, well-used mattress. Sydney dropped her feet to the tile floor and gingerly stood up. Once upright, she sighed as she caught her reflection on the wall of bulletproof glass before her. The gray sweatpants and matching sweatshirt she wore hung on her slender frame and her hair was dull and uncombed, chestnut strands loose and free from a messy French braid.  
  
Sydney turned away, her eyes darting around the familiar space. The last time she'd been in this cell at the CIA ops center, she had been visiting her good friend Will Tippin. And before that, she'd come here to see her mother. Her mother - what had become of her mother? The questions were relentless, pounding her mind like stormy surf on the ocean shore.  
  
Sydney shuffled silently to the small, stainless steel sink in the corner of the cell and ran some cold water into her hands. She involuntarily gasped as she splashed her face, her pale cheeks immediately coloring a deep pink. Sydney hoped the water would clear her head and sharpen her senses, but one question repeatedly capsized her thoughts and waylaid her emotions: Where had she been and what had she been doing for the past two years?  
  
Between bouts of fitful sleep during the plane ride back to Los Angeles, Sydney had asked this question, each time her shock and confusion deepening. She asked it of herself and of Vaughn, who started out by saying "I don't know" before eventually falling mute and simply shaking his head. He answered nothing and even refused to discuss "that night" with her, telling her plainly that she needed to be debriefed and evaluated before the answers, if any, could be given to her.  
  
Vaughn. His name, just his name, was enough to force Sydney to dunk her head into the sink, her face turned to the faucet, the glacial water pouring over her cheeks and nose. When all at once it became too much, she jerked upright and snapped off the faucet before leaning over the sink, water dripping from her chin. Slowly raising her eyes to the mirror above the basin, Sydney was startled to see a reflection of Will Tippin as he stood behind her at the glass wall, watching her with wide eyes.  
  
They both spoke at once.  
  
"Will-"  
  
"Syd-" Will caught his breath. "Oh my god, Syd, they said you were dead. I thought you were dead!" His voice was loud, echoing his shock and relief.  
  
Sydney rushed to the wall and pressed her hands to it, her fingers splayed as if she were trying to reach right through the glass. Tears mingled on her cheeks with the water that dripped from loose strands of her hair.   
  
"I thought YOU were dead!" Sydney forced the words past the lump in her throat. "Vaughn told me you were okay, but I could hardly believe it, after seeing you in the bathtub," She sobbed. "Oh, Will."  
  
Before Will could speak again, an officer appeared with the secure key card that allowed entry to the cell. Will impatiently waited while the officer swiped it through. The door was barely open before Will pushed his way into the cell and rushed to encircle Sydney in his arms, crushing her to his body.  
  
Sydney fought the urge to wrap her legs around him and never let go. Tears of relief tumbled down her cheeks. Being able to feel Will and smell him and hear his warm voice was nearly overwhelming to her, but she was glad for it. She felt reassured now, the familiarity of her friend grounding her for the first time in two days.  
  
It was wonderful, and yet troubling. There still remained this problem of two missing years.  
  
"That night," Sydney managed when Will finally released her. "I saw you in the bathtub and I - I just-" Unable to go on, Sydney turned away, biting her lip.  
  
Will gently took her hand. "I was alive, barely," He replied, his voice low. "Allison couldn't bring herself to finish me off. Apparently she had grown fond of me," Will chuckled ruefully. "But I've had two years to get past that. Although I don't think I'll ever get past-" He stopped short, mute with emotion.  
  
"Francie," Sydney whispered, turning back to meet Will's eyes. He nodded silently, his brow furrowed in pain. "I know," She said. "I've only had 48 hours to try to process it, and I - I can't." Sydney reached up to wipe away fresh tears. "I can't figure any of it out. I don't know anything."  
  
"I want to ask you so many things," Will blurted desperately. "I want to know where you were and what you were doing and why you didn't contact us. Everyone thought you were dead, even Vaughn," He withdrew his hand as Sydney visibly winced. "He held out the longest, Syd, if that means anything."  
  
"How long?" She asked bitterly, her voice hard. "It's not even been two years and he's married? How does that happen?"  
  
"I was convinced, in my heart, that if you were still alive you'd find a way to contact me," A quiet, firm voice sounded from behind Will and Sydney and they turned, startled by Vaughn's presence. He looked imploringly at Will.  
  
"I can take a hint," Will said with a small smile. "Syd," He turned back to her and embraced her once more. "I'll be back. We'll talk more."  
  
"I'd like that," Sydney told him, squeezing his hand. She gently kissed his cheek and then watched him leave, sidestepping Vaughn on his way out.  
  
Vaughn took a couple of tentative steps into the cell and stopped, sliding his hands into the pockets of his navy blue suit. He looked remarkably well for having been on a late flight from Hong Kong; Sydney noticed this immediately, her dark eyes searching his emotionless face.  
  
Uncomfortable under her gaze, Vaughn nervously withdrew a hand from his pocket and stroked his tie before he finally spoke.  
  
"How did you sleep?"  
  
"Apparently not as well as you," Sydney answered too quickly. Aware that she sounded flippant, she struggled to recover. "You must be used to those late night flights."  
  
"More than you know," Vaughn replied, his eyes on the floor. He raised his head just in time to catch Sydney trying to better her appearance as she raked her fingers through her tousled hair. "I'm sorry about the lack of facilities," Vaughn said, nodding towards the small sink. "I'll try to get you moved to a safe house with a shower and more comfortable sleeping arrangements."  
  
Sydney bit her lip in a futile attempt to hold back tears. "Thank you," She breathed, sniffing quietly. She fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt, twisting it between her fingers as tears slipped down her cheeks. "Why can't I just go home?"  
  
Vaughn took a deep breath, his brow furrowed as he searched for a delicate answer.  
  
"You don't have a home anymore, Syd," He told her, watching helplessly as the words struck her like blows and caused her to sink down onto the cot in the corner of the room. "After Francie- well, after she-"  
  
"Died," Sydney whispered, not daring to meet his eyes.  
  
"Yeah," He nodded. "Will moved out. Your things were put into storage - we didn't know what else to do with them."  
  
Vaughn quietly walked over to the small metal desk and pulled out the chair. After he was seated, he looked up at Sydney once again, watching as she struggled to control her emotions. Deciding it was best to be as professional as possible, Vaughn launched into an explanation of the meetings and tests she could expect throughout the day.  
  
"You'll be meeting with Dr. Barnett at one," He told her. "And then with a couple of impartial CIA investigators, Agent Barnes and Agent Miller. I've met them both, I think you'll be comfortable with them."  
  
"You won't be there?" Sydney asked suddenly.  
  
"No," He replied. "The idea is for you to be interviewed by agents who don't know you personally, so they can be as objective as possible."  
  
"You're not impartial," Sydney nodded as she stated the obvious.  
  
"Right," Vaughn said, his voice dropping. "I'm not."  
  
There was an tense silence before Vaughn cleared his throat.  
  
"Dr. Barnett mentioned that hypnotic regression might be helpful," He said, studying Sydney's face carefully. "Since you can't remember."  
  
Sydney met his eyes, unsure of what she'd heard. She hoped she had imagined the trace of disbelief in his voice. "Will you be there for that?" She asked, pushing back a rush of doubt.  
  
"No. We think it's best that I stay as removed from the process as possible- "  
  
"Who's 'we'? Kendall?" Sydney interrupted, anger flashing in her dark eyes. "Do you agree?"  
  
Vaughn took his time before answering, gathering his thoughts carefully. "I can make sure that Will is there, if you'd like," He said, avoiding Sydney's eyes. "If it would make you more comfortab-"  
  
"Is it Alice?" Sydney blurted, the force of her words causing Vaughn to wince.  
  
"Who?"  
  
Sydney drew back slightly, her voice dropping, her face crumbling. "Your wife."  
  
Vaughn exhaled loudly, dropping his chin to his chest and studying the simple gold band on his left hand.  
  
"She was there for me," He said slowly, quietly. "You were missing. We thought you were dead. I was - I was crushed," He met Sydney's eyes as tears once again dampened her cheeks. "I needed someone to comfort me and I called her, and, well," Vaughn squeezed his eyes shut, fighting his own conflicting emotions. "Syd," He breathed. "I thought you were dead."  
  
"What about now?" Sydney couldn't stop herself from leaning forward and clutching Vaughn's hands. "Now that you know I'm not?"  
  
"You've been gone two years!" Vaughn jerked back too quickly, letting a sudden flash of anger get the best of him. He got to his feet and turned away from Sydney, staring sullenly at the glass wall.  
  
Sydney stood up slowly as her mind interpreted his anger and used it to fuel her own. "You feel betrayed," She surmised, taking a step towards him. "You want to know where I've been and who I've been with. Well, you know what? So do I, because I DON'T REMEMBER!" She shouted those last words, her frustration punctuated by her clenched fists.  
  
Vaughn turned back to her, watching her carefully, prepared for anything. He hadn't expected her to raise her voice like this; it wasn't like her. But then again, he reasoned to himself, it wasn't like her to just disappear without a trace, only to resurface with no memory of ever having been gone.  
  
"I know this isn't easy," Vaughn said evenly, his voice soothing. "I have no idea how I'd react if I was being told the things you are, if I had to try to figure out what happened to 24 months of my life."  
  
"It's not easy, you're right," Sydney nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself tightly. "It's excruciatingly difficult, Michael."  
  
Upon hearing her speak his name, Vaughn's heart leapt into his throat and unexpected tears burned the back of his eyes. He blinked hard, looking away from her.  
  
"People around you have moved on," He murmured. "That must be hard to understand."  
  
"Impossible," Sydney pursed her lips as her chin quivered, a sob lodged in her throat. She swallowed it, forcing the tears from her eyes instead, watching as Vaughn's image warped and blurred. Finding her voice, she came to Vaughn's side. "For me it's only been hours since you dropped me off in front of my apartment and told me you'd be back to take me to Santa Barbara. My memory only recalls the feelings I had for you at that moment, the kiss you gave me before we parted."  
  
"Syd, don't," Vaughn turned his back to her, unwilling to let her see how her words affected him.  
  
"I can't just turn it off, Vaughn. Even if I wanted to," Sydney sniffed. "All I can recall is that one minute we're together and we're happy and the next I wake up and, well," She paused and reached out to him, letting her fingers trail down his back. "I don't remember not loving you."  
  
Vaughn closed his eyes for a moment, old feelings ebbing through him, his heart and mind locked in an age-old struggle. He knew Sydney's feelings; they were similar to ones he had muddled through when she had first disappeared, back at a time when he had been convinced they'd still end up together.  
  
He shuddered to think how time, and circumstance, had changed absolutely everything.  
  
Vaughn gently turned back to face Sydney, his voice low. "Syd, she's pregnant."  
  
Sydney inhaled sharply, a flicker of pain darkening her eyes. "Oh," was all she managed before the full weight of her heart being torn in two propelled her away from him. She sank onto the metal desk chair, facing away from Vaughn, her face in her hands.  
  
"Syd-"  
  
"Just go," Sydney requested in a muffled voice. "Please."  
  
Vaughn sighed and hung his head, turning in the doorway on his way out, his hand on the doorframe. "If you need anything," He said helplessly. When there was no response, Vaughn simply walked away, his heart considerably heavier than it had been when he'd arrived.  
  
Minutes passed in silence as Sydney pulled her hands inside the sleeves of her sweatshirt, her fingers aching with cold. It seemed an eternity before she heard footsteps again and Will's cheerful voice punctured her solitude.  
  
"Great news, Syd," He poked his head into the doorway of the cell. "I got security clearance to take you home with me. You'll get a chance to take a shower and freshen up," Will paused, expecting a reaction and getting none. "Syd?" He walked over to the cot and sat down facing her.  
  
She was crying, large tears spilling over and splashing the front of her sweatshirt. "Will," She moaned, pitching forward into his arms, grateful that he readily accepted her and held her tightly.  
  
"Oh, Syd," Will stroked her back, his fingers trailing over the end of her braid. "I'm so sorry for all of this," He said tenderly.  
  
"I can't wrap my head around it," Sydney groaned, pulling back suddenly and looking at Will with sodden eyes. "I'm a smart girl, Will, but I just can't grasp this one. It doesn't make any sense. How can a person go missing for two years and not remember it?"  
  
Will shook his head, momentarily speechless. The answer to that eluded them all, even the most logical of the CIA's thinkers, many of whom had spent most of the night trying to understand what Agent Bristow had been through. Will had been one of them; as a senior analyst he had been assigned to research the location where Sydney "woke up". So far he had uncovered nothing that indicated how she had come to be there, or why.  
  
"C'mon, Syd," Will grabbed Sydney's hand and stood up, pulling her to her feet as well. "Let's go to my apartment. You can get a hot shower and a hot meal and then be ready to face Dr. Barnett. I'll come back with you, if you want, for the hypnosis."  
  
Sydney sniffed and tried to smile despite the tears. "Thanks, Will."  
  
Will and Sydney made their way out of the cell and walked side by side down the wide, tiled corridor leading to ops center. When they came close to Sydney's old workstation, she couldn't help but stare at the agent who sat there, oblivious to Sydney's presence or the pained expression on her face.  
  
Sydney paused for a moment, lightly tapping Will's arm. He stood quietly as she gazed at the desk she had once occupied, a time to her that felt like nothing more than a couple of days ago. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught of glimpse of Vaughn as he stood in the center of the room talking quietly with an agent Sydney did not recognize.  
  
Vaughn glanced up suddenly, meeting Sydney's eyes. She smiled weakly, and he returned it, the grin on his lips a betrayal of the sadness in his eyes.   
  
An agent nearby suddenly perked up, calling out in Vaughn's direction. "Hey, Mikey, your wife is on the phone." Vaughn looked at Sydney a moment longer before dropping his eyes and picking up a nearby receiver as the agent shouted out the extension number.  
  
Sydney turned back to Will, unwilling to overhear Vaughn use terms of endearment he'd once spoken to her, sweet words that still echoed in her mind from their last night together.  
  
As Will lightly rested a hand on her shoulder to guide her toward the door, Sydney gave in to her bewilderment as she felt exhaustion seeping into her bones. Everything in the past two days had been unexpected; she'd been blindsided with truths that she could not comprehend. But nothing had surprised her more than what she had just found out: how stunningly easy she was to replace.  
  
****** A/N: Thanks for indulging me. Please take a minute to review me, if the spirit moves you. 


	2. Set Adrift

Chapter Two: Set Adrift  
  
The sound of the key turning in the lock on Will Tippin's front door brought forth a whine from an unseen creature on the other side. The whining was accompanied by scratching on the door post, and before Will could turn the doorknob, a black paw darted out underneath the door and took a swipe as the whimpering continued in earnest.  
  
"Don't mind her," Will smiled brightly at Sydney Bristow as he slowly pushed open the door, careful not to maim the animal on the other side. "She's completely harmless."  
  
Sydney followed Will inside his apartment and was immediately accosted by a large black lab who was unconditionally happy to see her even though they were meeting for the first time. The dog leapt up and rested her paws on Sydney's stomach while wildly sniffing her face, saying hello in a way that only dogs can get away with.  
  
"Pip! C'mon, Pip, get down," Will came to Sydney's side to rescue her after he had closed and locked the front door. "C'mon, girl," He tugged lightly on Pip's collar and she relented, nosing Sydney's hands once more before returning to the floor. She turned a few circles, sniffing the air and brushing up against Will's jeans before darting to the corner of the room to retrieve her favorite chew toy.  
  
"When did you get a dog?" Sydney watched the dog run from one side of the living room to the other, gently biting the toy until it squeaked, watching Will intently to see if he wanted to play.  
  
Will tossed his jacket across the back of the brown leather couch and grinned as he headed for the kitchen. "When I got out of the hospital, my sister gave her to me as a welcome home present," He opened the refrigerator and glanced inside at the meager contents. "Amy had owned her for about three months but decided she couldn't handle her anymore. She's a bit hyper at times."  
  
Sydney turned sharply as the dog knocked over a garbage can. "I noticed."  
  
"Amy named her Pippy Longstockings because of the way her ears stick out," Will grabbed two cans of diet Coke and handed one to Sydney. "Could you see me calling her that in the middle of a dog park? In front of beautiful single women?" Will laughed. "I decided that 'Pip' was more fitting."  
  
Sydney hid a smile behind her soda can before taking a sip. "You seem well suited for one another," She commented. "The word 'tenacious' comes to mind." The dog ran past them both, chew toy firmly in her mouth as she circled the couch for the fifth time.  
  
Will just smiled. "C'mon," He coaxed warmly. "I'll give you the 50-cent tour."  
  
From the outside, the apartment building reminded Sydney of the complex featured in the mid-90's TV drama "Melrose Place". The inside, however, was another story; Will had managed to make the small, one bedroom space into a comfortable, unassuming home.  
  
Once Will had led her through the whole apartment, the black lab at their heels, he paused in the small dining area to take a gulp of his soda and gather his thoughts. Sydney reached to set her diet Coke on the dining table and stopped cold.  
  
"Will."  
  
Will swallowed noisily and turned. "What?"  
  
"The table."  
  
Will met Sydney's wide eyes and then followed her gaze down to the object of her undivided attention. He studied it for a moment before the realization dawned on him.  
  
"Oh, yeah-" He started, just before Sydney cut him off.  
  
"That's my table," She stated, her mouth agape. "From my apartment."  
  
Will watched her carefully for a moment, unsettled by how much this affected her. He slowly raised a hand and rested it kindly on her shoulder.  
  
"I had some great times with you at that table," He told her in a reverent tone. "It didn't seem right to sell it or put it into storage." Will was unprepared to see Sydney turn to him with wet eyes, a tear perilously close to falling.  
  
"Will," She said, clearly stricken. "What's happened to my life?"  
  
Will didn't know what else to do; he pulled Sydney into his arms and held her silently as she cried on his shoulder, her tears coming swiftly. Even Pip sensed the sadness that suddenly filled the room; she dropped her chew toy and came to Sydney's side, nuzzling her hand. When the dog began to lick her fingers, Sydney couldn't help but smile as she pulled back from Will's comforting embrace.  
  
"I'm being tag-teamed," She joked. "I have no choice but to cheer up." Sydney pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table, patting her knee encouragingly. Pip eagerly placed her head in Sydney's lap and rubbed her velvet soft ears against Sydney's fingers.  
  
"You don't have to do anything, Syd, except recognize the people around you who are here to help you," Will said, taking a seat next to Sydney before reaching out to pat Pip's side.  
  
Sydney smiled up at him and continued to rub the dog's head with one hand as she ran the other lazily across the tabletop. Her expression grew distant as memories of earlier days played themselves out on the big screen in her mind. She sighed, lost in thought and unaware of how miserable she sounded. Will's heart constricted to hear the weary timbre of her voice.  
  
"I feel like a refugee," She said, her eyes still fixed on the tabletop. "A woman without a country."  
  
Will reached out to grab her hand as she absently swept it past him, her fingers tracing the wood grain. "You're anything but a refugee," He assured her. "More like a prodigal, returning home."  
  
Sydney chuckled in spite of herself. "Except that I don't ever remember being gone," She finally met Will's eyes, memories of days gone by slowly fading from view. "When you and Francie first kissed; that was what, six months ago?"  
  
It was a test, and Will knew it. He didn't fault her for it. "Almost two and a half years ago, Syd."  
  
Sydney nodded, her eyes darting away. "I keep waiting for someone to point out the candid cameras."  
  
"Let me get you a clean towel so you can shower," Will stood up after drinking the last of his diet Coke. He walked by Sydney on his way to the hall closet, tenderly squeezing her shoulder as he passed.  
  
Sydney gently nudged the dog's head out of her lap and stood up. Pip barked playfully and ran back to the spot where she'd abandoned her chew toy, snatching it up and making it squeak. She lumbered across the room and brushed Sydney's leg with the t-bone steak shaped toy, excitedly whapping the table legs with her tail.  
  
Sydney grabbed the chew toy and tossed it across the room, behind the couch. Pip barked excitedly and immediately took off in pursuit, her claws clicking in rapid succession on the hardwood floors.  
  
Waiting for the dog to return so they could play again, Sydney walked over to the entertainment center to glance at the framed photos displayed on top. She looked at them closely, smiling faintly as she moved from one picture to the next. Her heart nearly stopped when she came to the last one. The photo was familiar, the frame surrounding it even more so.  
  
Carefully, Sydney reached out and picked it up, turning it slowly in her hands. There was a chip in the wood on the back side of the frame, in the exact place Sydney knew it would be. The frame had been damaged when it had been accidentally knocked off of her bedside table.  
  
During a night long ago, with Vaughn, when she'd flung her hand out from beneath the covers to grip the edge of her pillow.  
  
Her eyes rimmed with tears, Sydney returned the antique frame to the space where Will had placed it, the image of Francie smiling back at her as she struggled to keep her grief in check.  
  
Hearing Will's footsteps on the wooden floor, Sydney hastily wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and reached for something, anything nearby to distract her. She grabbed a CD from the top of the stereo and was surprised to see that it was Hootie and the Blowfish.  
  
"Will," She looked at him quizzically as he entered the room. "I thought you hated Hootie and the Blowfish."  
  
"I do," Will agreed, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. "But I just had to buy that CD; it's the last one they made before they disbanded."   
  
"They what?" Sydney put the CD back and turned to face him. "When?"  
  
"About a year ago," Will shrugged, reaching down to wrestle the chew toy away from his dog. Pip bounced around his legs, whining excitedly until he threw the toy back across the room. She bounded after it, nearly knocking over the magazine rack as she darted around the couch.  
  
Sydney couldn't help the tears that once again sprang to her eyes. This day had been nothing to her but a constant reminder of all she had missed, from earth-shattering to insignificant. No matter how small something seemed, such as a random detail about a band Sydney didn't even care for, it still rocked her like rough ocean waves against a dinghy. She felt as though she would capsize at any moment.  
  
"There's a fresh towel on the rack in the bathroom," Will said over his shoulder, bending over to rub Pip's belly as she curled around his feet, the toy clutched firmly in her teeth. "And you can use my robe, if you want, until I find something for you to wear. It's on the hook on the back of the door." He turned his head to look at Sydney and was surprised to find that she was already gone.  
  
Just as Will straightened up again, the dog scrambling to keep his attention, he heard the shower come on and the distinctive clack of the glass shower door rolling closed. These sounds were followed by one that Will did not recognize at first. Pip cocked her head and listened, also, just before she pawed the floor at her owner's feet and let out a mournful whine.  
  
"C'mon, girl," Will crossed the room and grabbed Pip's leash from where it hung on the antique hat rack next to the front door. "What do you say we go for a walk?"  
  
Eager to oblige, Pip barked her reply and jogged to Will's side, waiting patiently for him to attach the leash to her collar before straining against it and darting into the hallway as soon as Will opened the front door. His face a mask of concern, Will glanced once back into the apartment before he closed the door, leaving Sydney to her shower and the deep sobs she released as she huddled, small and scared, beneath the cleansing spray.  
  
"Thank you for coming in today, Ms. Bristow," Dr. Barnett closed her notebook and laid her silver Mont Blanc pen on the dark leather cover.  
  
"Frankly, Doctor, I don't think I had a choice," Sydney recrossed her legs, sweeping strands of her freshly washed hair off her shoulder. Fiddling aimlessly with the sleeves of the borrowed shirt she wore, she glanced up at Dr. Barnett, her eyes dark. "If Kendall had had his way, I probably would have been in here first thing this morning."  
  
"I think the last hour has been beneficial," Dr. Barnett commented, her cool blue eyes searching Sydney's face. "And in regards to Kendall, I'm sure he's just concerned about your well being."  
  
"He's concerned about whether or not I'm telling the truth," Sydney said pointedly. "He's concerned about my loyalties. I'm sure you know that as soon as I'm done here, I have to go speak with two investigators. I'm sure you also know that the first thing they're going to do is hook me up to a polygraph."  
  
"I'm sure you know, Agent Bristow," Dr. Barnett's tone rested heavily on the word "agent"; it was the first time she'd used it during their time together. "That for a well trained field agent, a polygraph is as useful as a screen door on a submarine."  
  
Sydney was caught off-guard by Dr. Barnett's attempt at levity. She caught herself starting to smile and stopped, letting out a deep sigh, instead.  
  
"Do you believe me?" Sydney finally asked, meeting the doctor's eyes once again.  
  
"I believe that you believe that you have no memory of the last two years," Dr. Barnett replied cryptically. "I believe that you believe that wherever you were, and whatever you were doing, it wasn't anything illicit or illegal."  
  
"Thanks, that helps me a lot," Sydney mumbled sarcastically, dropping both feet heavily to the floor. She stood up quickly, grabbing Will's denim jacket from the chair next to her own. "If we're through here, I really need to report to Agent Barnes and Agent Miller-"  
  
"Ms. Bristow," Dr. Barnett said quickly, getting to her feet as well. "I want you to remember what we talked about. Until we can get a better understanding of the reason why you don't remember, we need to be prepared for anything." She followed Sydney to the door. "Don't be frightened if you have sudden flashbacks, or if you have strange dreams or nightmares that seem out of the ordinary. Just try to write down as much of it as you can and we'll discuss it when we meet again."  
  
"I talk in my sleep," Sydney put in, her hand on the doorknob. "Maybe I should run a tape recorder all night, next to the bed?" Her eyes were hard as she lifted them to meet Dr. Barnett's concerned gaze.  
  
"I know this is difficult," Dr. Barnett glossed over Sydney's bitter sarcasm. "But I'll help you through it. You've got to trust me."  
  
Sydney didn't answer; she stared down at the carpeted floor, tears wedging themselves in her throat for the umpteenth time that day. She desperately wanted to stop crying, to stop feeling so lost among her own emotions.  
  
"Okay," She finally whispered, pulling open the office door before stepping out into the brightly lit hallway.  
  
"Sydney," Dr. Barnett called after her, causing her to turn as she reached the elevator just a few feet away. "Next time I'd like to talk a little about Agent Vaughn."  
  
Sydney was grateful that the elevator was empty when she stepped inside. If she was going to cry, she'd much rather do it alone.  
  
"Your urinalysis came back abnormal," the Medical Services physician, Dr. Wick, stood at the end of the hospital-style bed where Sydney sat, her legs tucked beneath her as she listened intently. "We haven't identified the exact drug yet, but we believe there was some sort of sedative in your system."  
  
"That was expected, though, right?" Sydney questioned. "I mean, I didn't just curl up in the middle of that alley in Hong Kong and go to sleep."  
  
"No, I'm sure you didn't," the doctor agreed, tucking Sydney's medical chart under his arm. "Until we identify what it was, we won't have any idea how long you might have been under its influence." He slid a hand in the pocket of his crisp white lab coat. "I'm sure that Director Kendall explained to you that we're keeping you here, in Med Services, overnight."  
  
"Yes," Sydney admitted. She was not a fan of this idea, but she understood the reasoning behind it. She was in no mood to argue, anyway, after spending over four hours with the investigators before being summoned to Medical Services just as she was sitting down with Will for a quick bite to eat.  
  
"We've got you scheduled for a full physical work-up first thing in the morning, including complete blood work and an MRI. I know it sounds like a lot, but it's imperative we do this as close to your return as possible," Dr. Wick cast her a sympathetic smile. "I hope you'll be able to sleep. You understand I can't give you anything to help you relax."  
  
"It's okay," Sydney smiled back, albeit weakly. "I'm pretty exhausted. I've had a full day."  
  
Dr. Wick turned to go, dimming the lights at the wall switch by the door. "If you need anything, there's a call button on the wall behind you. Don't hesitate to use it."  
  
"Thank you," Sydney nodded as he left the room and waited for him to close the door before she slowly uncurled her legs and dangled her feet over the edge of the bed. After tiredly rubbing her eyes, she yawned as she reached down and slipped off her shoes.  
  
The blue jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt that Will had borrowed from a female neighbor he was friendly with were almost a full size too big. They were comfortable, though, and Sydney found herself relaxing despite her surroundings as she eased herself back against the pillow, curling herself into a near fetal position. Her eyelids grew heavy and she sighed sleepily, nestling into the sheets, burrowing her feet under the edges of the blanket. Sydney was just on the verge of sleep, consciousness deliciously fading to black, when she heard a familiar voice speak her name, followed by a term of endearment she hadn't heard in what felt like ages.  
  
"Sydney, sweetheart."  
  
Sydney opened her eyes and blinked hard, her eyes readjusting to the semi- darkness. A male figure stood at the door, his body silhouetted by the bright light streaming in from the hallway.  
  
Sitting up, Sydney leaned forward to get a better look. As the face of the person in her doorway came into focus, Sydney gasped, her hands involuntarily clutching the blanket at her feet.  
  
Opening her mouth, Sydney spoke a word she hadn't uttered since she was a small child.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
****** 


	3. Turning Point

Chapter Three: Turning Point  
  
"I was afraid to open my eyes. I thought you might be a dream."  
  
Upon hearing his daughter's voice, Jack Bristow turned from the window, his hands in his pockets, his features illuminated by sunlight streaming in through the mini-blinds. He stepped softly to the bedside and smiled down at her.  
  
"That makes two of us."  
  
Sydney sat up slowly, pushing the blanket down to her waist before stretching her arms up toward the ceiling. After smoothing her hair behind her ears, she took a second look at her father, a warm smile spreading across her face.  
  
Her voice thick with sleep, she asked, "Have you been here all night?"  
  
Jack shook his head. "No. I went home - after you fell asleep," He paused, his eyes darting to the floor. His retelling of the event differed only slightly from what really happened; Sydney had cried herself to sleep on his shoulder.  
  
The memory of the night before became clearer to Sydney as the fog of sleep burned off. She smiled up at her father, remembering the same thing he was: the tearful reunion they had shared.  
  
While holding her close and stroking her hair as she spilled tears onto his suit coat, Jack had repeated, "I knew you'd come back, I knew you weren't dead," until his voice had grown hoarse. Sydney had simply clutched him tightly, his deep voice reverberating through her and setting things right within her.  
  
They'd parted for a time, each one talking in rapid-fire bursts. Jack explained to his daughter that he'd never given up hope; he had searched for her for months, following and exhausting the few, slim leads they'd had. He'd refused to hold a memorial service for her, vowing to never mourn her passing until he had undeniable proof that she was dead.  
  
Amid a rush of fresh tears, Sydney repeated her claim that she knew nothing of the last two years and begged her father to help her understand what had happened. She then told him about Vaughn, and sadness overwhelmed her, leaving her little choice but to surrender to her father's comforting embrace.  
  
Jack held Sydney until she'd drifted off. After lowering her back against her pillow and covering her with the blanket, he sat across the room and watched her sleep, shedding a few tears of his own.  
  
Sitting in the hospital bed, gazing up into her father's face, Sydney felt lighter somehow, like a monumental weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was certain now that she had an ally, someone who unconditionally believed her, someone who would do battle for her and with her as she struggled to recover the last 24 months of her life.  
  
"Something I didn't ask you last night, Dad," Sydney patted the mattress in front of her, beckoning her father to sit as she folded her legs beneath her. "Where were you the last couple of days? Vaughn mentioned you were in the field."  
  
"I was," Jack confirmed, sitting down. "I was actually in Madagascar," He paused, watching Sydney's face. "Tracking your mother."  
  
Sydney drew in a deep breath. "Derevko."  
  
Jack pursed his lips, acknowledging the emotion behind Sydney's cold deliverance of her mother's given name. They had known her as Laura Bristow, but she would never again be that person to either one of them.  
  
Sydney had so many questions; she struggled to know which one to ask first. "Did you locate her?"  
  
"No," Jack replied. His brow furrowed as he continued. "I haven't had much success with that over the past months."  
  
Sydney sat quietly for a moment, collecting her thoughts, formulating ideas. There was one theory she held that was more insistent than the rest; it had been circulating through her mind for the better part of a day. She was about to put it into words for her father when the door opened and Dr. Wick entered, followed closely by a nurse pushing a wheelchair.  
  
"Oh, hey, Jack," Dr. Wick smiled upon seeing Sydney's father. He extended his hand to shake. "It's good to see you."  
  
"Nice to see you, as well, Sam," Jack returned the doctor's warm greeting.  
  
"I hate to interrupt," Dr. Wick turned his attention to Sydney. "But, Ms. Bristow, it's time to start your blood work." He motioned to the nurse at his side. "Angela will take you down to the lab."  
  
"I can walk," Sydney eyed the wheelchair suspiciously.  
  
"Protocol," Dr. Wick nodded. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you anything about that."  
  
"No, I'm quite familiar with the word," Sydney smiled ruefully. She extricated her legs from the tangled bed sheet and slid off the bed before bending down to retrieve her shoes. "Any idea when I can get something to eat?" She questioned, pulling on her Keds. "I never got to eat my dinner last night."  
  
"Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until the testing is completed," Dr. Wick was busily making notes on Sydney's medical chart. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."  
  
"I spoke to Kendall before I came here this morning," Jack chimed in, following the doctor out into the hall as the nurse led the way with Sydney in the wheelchair. "After your testing, you'll be released to Will Tippin for the rest of the day."  
  
Sydney swiveled in the chair, leaning over to see past the nurse. "Dad," She said. "I want to talk with you again - soon."  
  
"We will, sweetheart," Jack assured her, stepping up beside the wheelchair as the small convoy stopped outside the door to the lab. Jack reached down and squeezed his daughter's arm. "Get some rest today, and when you come in tomorrow, we'll sit down together."  
  
"Okay," Sydney agreed, nodding. She met his eyes, giving him a look that conveyed more than her words could say. "I want to hear all about Madagascar."  
  
"Wow, look at you," Will Tippin said appreciatively as Sydney walked into the living room, freshly showered and changed. She had taken the time to really do her hair, to pull it back in a smart chignon at the nape of her slender neck.  
  
"I'm starting to feel like myself again," Sydney smiled, glancing down at herself. "Thank you for getting me the clothes. It's nice to wear things that are familiar."  
  
Will got up from where he'd been seated on the couch, a Time magazine in his lap. Pip momentarily stirred from her position on the rug at Will's feet, watching him carefully for any signs that he wanted to play. She was constantly on the lookout for this and couldn't understand why Will didn't share her enthusiasm.  
  
Pip returned to her nap as Will stepped over her to come to Sydney's side. "It took me a while to remember which storage company we'd used," He said, looking Sydney up and down. "But once I did, it didn't take long to locate the box of clothes we'd saved. I washed everything last night - I'm glad to see I didn't ruin anything."  
  
"Will, you didn't have to go to all that trouble," Sydney grabbed his arm. "But I appreciate that you did. Thank you."  
  
They smiled at each other for a moment before Will's brow furrowed, his eyes once again looking Sydney from head to toe. She had chosen to wear a pair of black slacks and a black sleeveless pullover sweater.  
  
"Hey, Syd," Will frowned. "Why all the black?"  
  
Sydney's smile quickly faded and she bent her head toward the floor, taking a deep breath. When she met Will's eyes again, her expression bore traces of an almost tangible sadness.  
  
She didn't even have to speak a word.  
  
"I'll get my car keys," Will said quietly, moving around her toward the hallway. Sydney turned to watch him go, but her attention was caught by the antique framed photograph on the entertainment center. She gazed at it until Will came back, after which, with a heavy heart, she slowly turned her eyes away.  
  
Their first stop was a short one; Will pulled his car up to the curb outside of the apartment he, Sydney and Francie had shared. From the outside, everything looked the same as it had the last time Sydney remembered being there. Sitting in the car, looking up at the building, she was struck with the strongest sense of déjà vu she had ever experienced.  
  
"He said he'd come back for me after the debrief," Sydney said suddenly, shattering the heavy silence within the car. Will tore his eyes away from the apartment to look at her.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Vaughn," Sydney whispered, her eyes never leaving the front door of the home where she used to live.  
  
Will nodded in understanding. "He did, you know. That's why I'm alive," He gently placed his hand on Sydney's knee. "When he got here, you were already gone."  
  
Sydney swallowed hard, her face a stoic mask. "Let's go," She said huskily, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak. She slipped her sunglasses back on, a dark pair that hid her eyes and the tears threatening to fall.  
  
Will didn't argue; he put the car into gear and pulled away, their next destination not far away. He turned a few blocks down and then slowed to a stop once more, slipping the car into park as Sydney looked up and gasped.  
  
"No," She moaned sadly, her eyes fixed on the boarded up building before them. "Francie's restaurant. Oh, Will," Sydney yanked off the sunglasses, making no attempt to hide her sorrow.  
  
Will said nothing, his own emotions beginning to build, his sky blue eyes cloudy with gloom. "There was no one to run it," He explained helplessly. "Not that Francie had really been running it those last few months. I'm amazed Allison knew enough to keep the place afloat."  
  
"Francie's family?" Sydney turned to Will, her eyes searching his face.  
  
"They didn't have the heart," Will answered quietly. "They closed it."  
  
Sydney sniffed shakily, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes before once again sliding on her sunglasses. Will waited a moment longer, his eyes scanning the building once more before he drove away.  
  
After a brief stop at a corner market for a bouquet of flowers, Will drove and Sydney rode with him in solemn silence to a park-like cemetery just outside of Los Angeles. They turned onto the road leading deep within the rolling green landscape of marble headstones, the car tires noisily churning up gravel and dust. Will expertly parked the car just off the path and exited the vehicle, walking slowly around the car to take Sydney's hand as they started off across the grass.  
  
Will slowed as they reached the gravesite, dropping Sydney's hand as she clutched the bouquet of flowers, a sudden sob escaping her throat.  
  
Kneeling in the plush grass, Sydney blinked away tears to clear her view of the polished gray headstone. "Francine D. Calfo," She read, her voice halting. "Beloved daughter, sister and friend."  
  
Will struggled against a lump in his throat as he watched Sydney lovingly lay the bouquet of white daisies at the base of the headstone after gently brushing her hand over the letters spelling out Francie's name. He reached out to lay a hand on Sydney's shoulder, and she rested her hand over his, clutching his fingers between her own. She remained in the grass, tears overflowing her eyes, for quite some time as she quietly grieved the loss of her best friend.  
  
Finally, as the sun began to descend low into the western sky, Sydney stood up and brushed grass clippings from her knees. She dug in her pocket for her tissues and wiped her eyes, turning to Will and sighing mournfully when she saw that his eyes were also wet. Out of tissues, she offered him her shoulder, folding herself into his arms without a word exchanged between them.  
  
The car ride back to Will's apartment was quiet, neither of them feeling the need to interrupt the silence. After they got back to the apartment and Will had taken Pip for a walk, Sydney played with her while Will dug a take- out menu out of the junk drawer in his kitchen.  
  
Reaching for the phone, Will glanced up as Sydney wrestled the chew toy out of Pip's mouth and tossed it across the room. She was convinced that Pip could play this game for hours and never tire of it. Unfortunately for the dog, Sydney was quickly growing weary of the repetition.  
  
"I'm gonna call out for pizza, Syd, if that's okay," Will said, beginning to dial. Sydney just nodded to him, tearing the toy from Pip's grasp yet again. Will placed the order and was just returning the menu to its place when Sydney walked into the kitchen and went to the sink to wash her hands.  
  
"Do you have any wine?"  
  
"Sure," Will answered quickly. He narrowed his eyes briefly. "At least, I think so. Let me check." As he went to the refrigerator, Sydney dried her hands on the kitchen towel and then leaned against he counter, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes still stung a little from her tears and her throat felt dry.  
  
Sydney watched Will reach way back into the fridge. "Beer would be okay, if you don't," She said, listening as he rooted through what sounded like an endless array of bottled beer.  
  
"Ah-ha!" Will sang out triumphantly, pulling out a bottle of wine and holding it up. "And guess what. It's never been opened!"  
  
"Oooh, screw-off cap. My favorite," Sydney grinned teasingly.  
  
"Hey, it's Arbor Mist," Will pointed to it, his eyebrows raised. "That goes good with pizza, right?" He set the bottle down on the counter as Sydney just smiled. "When's the last time you had pizza?" Will asked her, opening a cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses.  
  
Sydney thought for a moment, her brow furrowed. She suddenly smiled, turning to Will as she began to giggle. "You know what?" She asked, giggling harder as Will gave her a puzzled look. "I don't remember!"  
  
Will was caught off guard by her sudden laughter, and he watched her carefully, hoping to be let in on the joke. Sydney grabbed his arm, laughing harder.  
  
"Don't you get it, Will?" She gasped between fits of giggles. "I don't remember. Like - the last two years? I don't remember!"  
  
Will wasn't sure how that was supposed to be funny, but seeing Sydney laugh was enough to elevate his mood and make him chuckle. He supposed it was funny to her, and he let it be, knowing the laughter was helping her to decompress. Giving her a crazy look, Will screwed the cap off the wine and poured two glasses, hers less full than his own. When she protested, Will held the bottle away from her.  
  
"You don't need more than that, Syd. You've already been smokin' something, I can tell."  
  
The kitchen echoed with their laughter. In the living room, Pip raised her head from where she lay on the couch, watching Sydney and Will as they clinked their glasses and then sipped their wine. Satisfied, Pip lowered her head and closed her eyes, the warm sounds of friendship soothing her to sleep.  
  
Nudging the door open as she knocked, Sydney stuck her head inside, pausing when Dr. Barnett looked up from her notes.  
  
"Agent Bristow," She rose from her chair, closing her notebook.  
  
"Dr. Barnett, I'm sorry if I'm intruding," Sydney stepped into the tidy office and closed the door. "Your door was open a crack, and I," She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you'd mind if I had a session with you this morning."  
  
Dr. Barnett opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly surprised. She recovered quickly, motioning to the chair across from her desk. "Take a seat," She directed kindly. Once they were both seated, she continued. "I must admit I'm surprised. When I saw you two days ago, you seemed to be less than willing to speak with me at any length."  
  
"I know," Sydney admitted, diverting her eyes as she gazed down at her lap, her fingers twisting a loose thread from a small hole in the knee of her blue jeans. They weren't the best pair of jeans she had ever owned, but they were hers, and that was what was important to her. "I did a lot of thinking last night, Dr. Barnett, and I've reached the conclusion that I'm tired of being blindsided by what has happened to my life. I've decided that I need to unravel the mystery, to deal with it, to get in the thick of it and figure it out, instead of just being sad about it."  
  
Dr. Barnett sat back in her chair, her eyebrows raised. "That's a very healthy attitude to take, Sydney," She said. "And it sounds very much like the Sydney Bristow I knew not too long ago."  
  
Sydney smiled slightly, meeting Dr. Barnett's eyes. "I visited my friend's grave yesterday," She said quietly. "And it put a lot of things into perspective."  
  
Dr. Barnett nodded. "I can imagine that it would."  
  
"I'm not saying I'm over it," Sydney told her. "I'm nowhere near that. I'm just ready now to meet it head on and find the answers to why that happened, why anything in the last two years has happened."  
  
"You want closure," Dr. Barnett surmised, picking up her pen to make notes.  
  
"That, yes," Sydney agreed just before her eyes darkened a bit, her voice sharpening. "And I want to find the person responsible for all of this and make him pay."  
  
Dr. Barnett looked up sharply, her pen poised over her notebook. She watched Sydney closely. "I can understand that desire," She said, treading carefully. "But revenge can often be pushed into place over the top of sadness and grief. When you ultimately get the payoff you seek, those feelings will still be there."  
  
"Maybe so," Sydney crossed her legs, her demeanor noticeably more relaxed than it had been two days ago. "But I doubt they'll hurt nearly as much then as they do now."  
  
While Dr. Barnett was troubled by Sydney's motivations, she was pleased that Sydney was willing to talk. She decided to open the discussion as broadly as possible, volleying the ball back into Sydney's wide open court.  
  
"So tell me, Sydney," Dr. Barnett began, casually writing in her notebook. "Where exactly do you want to begin?"  
  
Sydney surprised them both with the answer that burst from her lips, driven by the thrust of truth.  
  
"Michael Vaughn."  
  
****** 


	4. Apples and Oranges

Chapter Four: Apples and Oranges  
  
"How many do you want?"  
  
"What - babies or apples?"  
  
Alice paused, one hand over the bin of shiny, red fruit and the other clutching a plastic produce bag. "Well," She chuckled. "I was referring to the apples, but as long as we're on the subject," She handed the produce bag to Vaughn and returned to their shopping cart.  
  
"We've been on the subject since we entered the store," Vaughn pointed out, hoping his words did not sound like a complaint.  
  
"I know, I'm sorry," Alice turned back to him, shopping list in hand, and smiled warmly. "I just can't seem to think of anything else. It's so exciting."  
  
Vaughn dropped the last apple into the bag and smiled up at his wife, the grin on his face betraying the shock he felt within. He had yet to accept the fact that he was going to be a father. He had barely gotten used to the idea of being a husband.  
  
Vaughn reached around Alice to set the bag of apples in their cart. "We shouldn't talk about it too much. We haven't even told your mother yet," He grabbed the cart handle and began to push as Alice moved off towards the bakery aisle.  
  
"I'm glad you brought that up," Alice smiled again, her face lighting up. "We need to go see her. I was thinking tomorrow night. Would that be all right?"  
  
Vaughn leaned against a rack of French bread, watching as Alice sorted through a display of muffins and bagels. She glanced up at him, awaiting his reply, and he reached out to gently smooth a strand of her hair back from her eyes.  
  
"Yes," He said, smiling, pushing away the darkness of doubt that lapped at the corners of his mind. "That would be great."  
  
"That settles it, then," Will Tippin tapped the freezer-case door and watched it close with a resounding "woosh" before turning back to Sydney Bristow and their half-full shopping cart. "As soon as you're up to it, we'll go. Trust me, you'll love Chicago."  
  
"It'd be nice to take a vacation," Sydney mused, watching as Will dropped a box of frozen pizza puffs in the cart. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You can't keep eating this crap, Will," She said, her tone mock-serious. "Not if you have any hopes of working in the field."  
  
Will pivoted sharply, nearly knocking over a display of ice cream cones as they made their way through the frozen foods section.  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
Sydney said nothing, raising her eyebrows as she pushed the shopping cart.  
  
Will quickly took two giant steps to get in front of the cart, halting its progress and stopping Sydney short.  
  
"You just said, 'work in the field', Syd," Will gripped the edges of the metal cart. "Did someone say something? Wait - what? Do you think I could do that? That I'm qualified?"  
  
Sydney grinned, nodding slowly. "I've seen you in action, Will."  
  
"You have?"  
  
"Yeah. And from what I heard from Dixon after you escaped from that transport bus," Sydney struggled for a moment with the sequence of events, finally settling on "way back when, you've got the right instincts."  
  
Will was flabbergasted. "Really? You really think so?"  
  
Sydney just continued to smile. "I bet with the right training, your hands could be lethal weapons."  
  
Will's eyes were wide, his mouth agape. He took a moment to look down at his hands, holding them out as if he were afraid they'd attack on their own. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sydney trying to stifle a laugh, and he quickly caught on.  
  
"Oooh," He narrowed his eyes at Sydney, his lips curling into a smile. "I get it. This is Spy Flirting, isn't it? Complimenting fighting technique. What's next - praising my lock picking ability?"  
  
Sydney laughed outright, realizing the game was over. Will just yanked hard on the cart, pulling it out of her hands.  
  
"You shouldn't fool with me like that," Will warned jokingly. "I believed you, for like, half a second."  
  
"No, no," Sydney was still laughing. "It was longer than that. I think you actually believed I was going to tell you that you were being offered the job."  
  
"Don't laugh so hard," Will said, looking hurt. "You're bruising my ego." He pushed the cart on ahead, his sights set on the produce section. "What do you think, Syd - oranges? They're allowed on the fake-field agent diet, right?" Will was expecting a jab in the ribs, but when his comment went unanswered, he turned around. "Syd?"  
  
Will stopped in his tracks when he saw Sydney just a few steps behind him. She was facing the checkout lanes, her arms crossed over her chest. Will followed her gaze and felt his heart sink when he realized what Sydney was studying so intently.  
  
"Syd," Will backed the cart up and came to Sydney's side. "Let's go get some fruit, what do you say?"  
  
"No. I think we should check out now," Sydney reached around Will and grabbed the cart, but Will would not let go. He met Sydney's eyes as he placed one of his hands over hers.  
  
"What are you going to do?" He asked warily.  
  
Sydney looked innocently at Will, her eyes imploring him not to argue. "I'm going to go check out," She explained patiently, managing finally to free the cart from Will's grasp. "And then I'm going to go talk to her."  
  
"Hey!" Will called after her, but it was no use. She was already gone.  
  
Within the space of twenty minutes, Alice and Vaughn had checked out and had finished unloading their groceries at about the same time that Sydney and Will were on the way to Will's car. As fate would have it, they had only parked two cars away from each other; Alice and Sydney nearly collided carts as Alice made her way across the crowded parking lot toward the overflowing shopping cart corral.  
  
"Oh my gosh, hi! It's Rita, right?"  
  
Standing by the car, Vaughn's heart plummeted at the sound of Alice's voice. He had noticed Sydney and Will in the store, in a checkout lane a few yards away, and he had hoped they wouldn't notice him. Apparently they were not the ones he had needed to worry about. He'd had no idea that Alice would remember "Rita", nearly three years after they'd originally met.  
  
Alice gave her cart a shove into the rack and extended her hand to shake. Sydney accepted it with feigned confusion.  
  
"Oh, hello," She said slowly, searching Alice's face as if she couldn't place her.  
  
Alice noticed and was quick to fill in the blanks. "I'm Alice - you work at the State Department with my husband, Michael."  
  
As the weight of those words caused Sydney's heart to drop and break like porcelain on concrete, she suddenly wondered what the hell she was doing. She fought to recapture her resolve, pushing her feelings back, way back, out of sight of her fractured heart.  
  
"Oh, right! I remember you," Sydney smiled broadly, relying on her training to slip into a role, to pretend to be everything she was not: calm, cool and collected. "We met at the hospital, when Michael was ill."  
  
"Right! Right," Alice smiled gratefully and reached out to lightly touch Sydney's arm. Sydney almost recoiled, but remained still, forcing a smile. "I hope I remembered to thank you for keeping an eye on him."  
  
"You did," Sydney nodded, her smile fading as her memory served to remind her of the panic on Alice's face that day in the hospital, the love she felt for Vaughn worn clearly on her sleeve.  
  
Meanwhile, Vaughn glanced up over the top of his vehicle and noticed Will standing awkwardly by his car, tossing his keys from one hand to the other. Dropping his chin to his chest, Vaughn drew in a deep breath, pausing for a moment before taking the short stroll over to Will's car.  
  
"Hey," He said.  
  
"Hey," Will returned the greeting, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't know whether to explain Sydney's actions or play dumb. Out of respect for his colleague, he chose the former. "I tried to stop her, Vaughn. I told her-"  
  
Vaughn cut him off with the wave of his hand. "You forget how well I know her," He said, coming to Will's side and sliding his hands in the pockets of his khakis. "She can't be stopped."  
  
Will was uncertain how to read Vaughn's comment, thinking best to just let it go. He simply nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Alice and Sydney conversed. It looked as though they were having a pleasant discussion, neither of them seeming to be tense or uncomfortable. But Will also knew Sydney's talent for role-playing; she could be in the jaws of a shark and pretend to be perfectly at ease.  
  
"So, Alice, I guess congratulations are in order," Sydney pasted on yet another smile, crossing her arms at her waist and trying to hold back the wave of sadness that threatened to crash over her whenever she thought about Alice being pregnant with Vaughn's child.  
  
"Oh, thank you," Alice gushed, glancing over her shoulder at Vaughn. She paused briefly to smile at him before going on. "We're really happy. It happened kind of fast, but it had been a long time coming. Michael and I have known each other for years."  
  
Sydney couldn't stop her smile from being replaced by a confused frown. Her brow furrowed as inwardly she asked, "What the hell is she talking about?" Outwardly, she just questioned, "I'm sorry? What happened fast?"  
  
"Oh, sorry," Alice reached out to lightly touch Sydney's arm yet again, causing Sydney to grit her teeth. "I know, we just got back, and I'm sure Michael hasn't had the chance to catch up all of his work friends on exactly how it happened."  
  
How it happened? Sydney was thoroughly confused, now. Surely Alice didn't mean what she sounded like she meant.  
  
"How did it happen?" Unwillingly, Sydney asked the question, hoping hard that she wasn't about to hear the last thing on Earth she wanted to hear.  
  
"We were really only going there for a vacation," Alice said, grinning. "But once we got to Vegas, we started talking, and right there at dinner Michael just said, 'Let's get married'. So we did! We found a beautiful wedding chapel the next day, and we did it. It wasn't exactly the wedding of my dreams, but that doesn't matter, not really. Not once you find the person you're meant to be with."  
  
Sydney couldn't tear her eyes from Alice's beaming face. She felt as though someone had just swung a wrecking ball through her stomach, leaving an empty, gaping hole. She wanted to look away, but she was afraid that if she did, she'd crumple to the pavement and never move again.  
  
"When-" Sydney's voice wouldn't come. She cleared her throat and tried again. "When was this?"  
  
"Monday," Alice glowed. "We were just starting our honeymoon, so to speak, when Michael got called back on urgent business. I don't know if you know, but he had to go overseas suddenly. We were supposed to be in Vegas through next weekend."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Sydney nodded slowly. "I know about his sudden trip."  
  
"Well, that's just the nature of his work, I suppose," Alice shrugged, grinning ruefully. "I guess I'll just have to get used to it." She watched Sydney's face, her smile suddenly lessening. "Hey, Rita, are you okay? You look a little pale."  
  
"I - uhm, I'd better go," Sydney pointed over her shoulder at Will and his car. "My friend is waiting."  
  
"It was nice seeing you again, Rita," Alice patted Sydney's arm once more. This time, Sydney didn't hesitate to pull away. Alice paused for a moment, her smile dimming once more, before she continued. "Michael and I will have to have you and your friend over for dinner some time."  
  
"That'd be great," Sydney said hollowly. She forced a small smile and muttered a goodbye before turning and pushing the grocery cart toward Will's car. She wanted to run, but she forced herself to walk calmly, coming upon Will and Vaughn engaged in "guy talk".  
  
"When did you get a Ford Focus?" Vaughn motioned towards Will's shiny black car. "I thought you had a Bronco."  
  
"It finally died," Will replied. "I'd wanted a new car, anyway. I bought the Focus because I figured it must be good - it seemed like everyone I knew was driving one."  
  
"Yeah, they're not bad," Vaughn walked around the vehicle, inspecting it from headlight to tailpipe. "They can go pretty fast, too."  
  
Sydney chose that moment to join them, marching up to the car and parking the shopping cart near the trunk. She looked pointedly at Will, taking pains to ignore Vaughn as he started to slowly back away.  
  
Will quickly unlocked the trunk and began helping Sydney with the groceries.  
  
Vaughn paused for a moment, his eyes searching out Sydney's face. Ever so slightly, she turned her head his direction and looked him squarely in the face. He felt her eyes upon him like a kick to the gut; he mumbled a goodbye and quickly retreated.  
  
Sydney watched him out of the corner of her eye until she could no longer stand the sight of him with Alice; she turned her back to them as they drove away and sullenly slid into the front seat of Will's car.  
  
Will got in beside her and put the key in the ignition. "Are you crazy?"  
  
"Will," Sydney warned.  
  
Will would not be deterred. "When Dr. Barnett told you that you need to confront Vaughn's marriage head-on, I don't think that's exactly what she had in mind."  
  
Sydney stared straight ahead as she put on her sunglasses, her mouth set into a tight line. Will watched her for a moment before finally sliding on his seatbelt and starting the car.  
  
"Alice is pregnant, Will."  
  
Will shot Sydney a surprised glance. "Really?" He questioned, his hand hesitating over the gearshift. "She just told you that?"  
  
"No," Sydney finally turned her head to look at him, her expression vague and unreadable. "She told me that she and Vaughn just got married, less than a week ago, and that he got called back to serve as my contact in Hong Kong while they were on their honeymoon."  
  
"Wow," Will slumped in his seat, his brain working over what he had just learned. "I knew he'd gotten married - Weiss was spreading the news around the morning of the day you turned up alive. But I didn't know anything about Alice being pregnant." Will's eyes grew wide. "Wait - how do you know she's pregnant?"  
  
"He told me."  
  
Sydney and Will stared at each other for a moment, Will's eyes growing wider.  
  
"Wait - do you think-" He paused, exhaling sharply. "Do you think that he married her because-"  
  
"I don't know what to think, Will," Sydney quickly looked away from him, her emotions tangled in an unidentifiable mess that left her feeling close to both tears and elation. She was confused about everything, most of all being the door that was now open a crack, the one she'd previously thought had been slammed shut in her face.  
  
"That woman, Rita, she's so nice," Alice said, getting into the car next to Vaughn. "You don't mention her much. Do you still work in the same department?" She looked expectantly at Vaughn as he busied himself with the seatbelt, trying to appear only mildly interested in the fact that his ex- girlfriend had just had a seemingly impromptu but carefully premeditated conversation with his wife.  
  
"Oh, uhm," Vaughn had to search for the right words. He wanted very much to ask Alice to give him the play-by-play of what she and "Rita" had discussed, but he didn't dare raise Alice's suspicions by asking questions. "No. Well, she got transferred, and she was gone for a while, but she's just recently returned."  
  
"Well, she seems really great. I told her that she and her boyfriend will have to come over for dinner sometime," Alice pulled on her own seatbelt and began to search through her purse for her sunglasses.  
  
Vaughn started the car as his mind replayed the word "boyfriend" in agonizing slow-mo. "Is that what Rita called him? Her boyfriend?" He asked casually. "Cuz he actually works with us, too, and I wasn't aware they were seeing each other."  
  
"Oh, no, I guess she didn't," Alice chuckled breezily. "I guess I just assumed. I think she just called him her friend." She looked over at Vaughn, her smile fading as she noticed him just staring out the windshield at nothing in particular. "Michael, honey, are you okay? We should get going - the ice cream will melt."  
  
"Right, right," Vaughn suddenly snapped to and reminded himself where he was and whom he was with, stopping just short of asking himself why.  
  
******  
  
A/N: Thanks to all for the kind reviews - they educate and inspire.  
  
Oh - and I apologize for the Ford Focus reference, but I just absolutely, positively could not help myself. Hee hee. 


	5. Time and Chance

Chapter Five: Time and Chance  
  
"No, Dad, think about it," Sydney slapped her hand on the table top more forcefully than she'd intended, grabbing her father's attention. She paused to collect herself, apologizing quickly. "I'm sorry, I had a rough weekend."  
  
Jack regarded his daughter quietly, his eyes seeing more than she wished to show. "It's too early for you to be doing this," He counseled. "I'm not going to recommend it to Kendall."  
  
"Dad," Sydney implored, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the conference room table. She and her father had made a standing date to meet in this room at the ops center each morning to share information regarding Sydney's progress and the ongoing investigation concerning her disappearance.  
  
"Sydney, we've been over this," Jack dropped his pen onto the polished mahogany and held up a hand to silence her. "Your mother has been like a ghost for the past year. Every time I get a lead on a possible location, she vanishes before I can get there. Even our overseas contacts can't keep track of her. What makes you think you'll have any success?"  
  
"For the same reason I've been trying to explain to you for the last ten minutes," Sydney was losing patience. "Before I disappeared, she showed up not once, but twice to warn me of things to come. She was trying to protect me-"  
  
"Or trap you," Jack interrupted sharply.  
  
"She had every opportunity to kidnap me at the hockey rink here in LA or at the server farm in Marseilles, but she didn't," Sydney took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, to dial back her intensity so could clearly state her case. "I had a dream last night, about Mom. I was in some sort of tunnel, and there was something covering my face. I was struggling, and then suddenly, the mask was lifted from my eyes and I looked up-" Sydney paused, her voice faltering as emotion started to well up. "Mom was there. She was urging me to escape, encouraging me to run. I didn't feel threatened by her, I felt safe."  
  
"Sydney, that was a dream-"  
  
"Or a memory!" Sydney wouldn't allow Jack to interrupt. "It was so vivid, Dad, I think it was a memory. I believe that Mom helped me. I don't think she was the one who kidnapped me - I think she had something to do with me being let go."  
  
"How do you know that you didn't just escape and then black out in that alley?" Jack's face began to redden, a sign that he was growing agitated and impatient. "Dr. Barnett stated that this could simply be a case of situational amnesia-"  
  
"Dr. Wick found a sedative in my system!" Sydney nearly shouted. "I didn't just black out, Dad, and lose my memory. Someone sedated me. For all I know, it could have been Mom so she could get me free."  
  
"This is insane," Jack stood up suddenly, slapping his notebook closed. "I won't listen to this. You have hours of therapy to go through before you can even consider re-entering the field." He tucked his pen in his breast pocket, his eyes never leaving Sydney's face. "Dr. Barnett has advised you to begin undergoing hypnotic regression as soon as possible. If you do that and you recover some viable memories, then I'll listen to you. For now, these are just hunches, and you and I both know how Kendall feels about your hunches."  
  
Sydney jumped to her feet to protest. "Dad, with everything that's happened to me, I need to deal with some of it, somehow," She lowered her voice as Jack stopped halfway to the door, turning slowly. "This is what I can deal with now."  
  
"You have so much to sort through, and I know things don't make sense right now," Jack said, meeting her eyes. "But you can't let your pursuit of your mother take the place of making peace with other areas of your life." He took a few steps closer to his daughter, his brow furrowing as he sensed her pain. "Finding her won't replace certain things that are suddenly missing."  
  
Sydney tipped her head forward, her eyes squeezing shut against the gathering tears. "You could give Dr. Barnett a run for her money," She murmured, attempting a brave smile despite her quivering chin.  
  
Jack smiled grimly, suddenly filled with concern and love for his daughter. He moved to embrace her and was about to slip his strong arms around her shoulders when the door to the conference room banged open and Kendall marched in, followed closely by an agent Sydney did not recognize.  
  
"Jack, we have some news you might be interested in," Kendall boomed, stopping short when he noticed Sydney standing behind her father. "Ms. Bristow," He nodded, greeting her reluctantly.  
  
"What news?" Jack prompted, his ever-present impatience with Director Kendall bubbling to the surface.  
  
Kendall motioned to the man beside him. "Agent Gleason just received sensitive intel from a CIA contact overseas. It appears that Irina Derevko has arranged a meeting with Kudar Mujari, the head of a known terrorist faction who is currently taking refuge in Nepal."  
  
"When is the meeting?" Sydney demanded, taking a few steps forward. "Do we have confirmation of this intel?"  
  
Kendall turned to face Sydney, narrowing his ice blue eyes. "I'm allowing you to be a party to this conversation as a courtesy, Ms. Bristow," He said rudely. "Not so you can ask questions and be involved."  
  
"Kendall," Jack barked, commanding control. "Those were valid questions, and they deserve to be answered."  
  
Sydney cast her father a grateful smile as Kendall backed off, crossing his arms over his chest. He hated condescension, especially from Jack Bristow, but he acquiesced and continued.  
  
"The meeting is scheduled for tonight at 2300 hours LA time," Kendall glanced at his watch. "This information is reliable, and I want to dispatch two agents to Nepal to intercept Derevko and bring her back into CIA custody." He eyed Jack carefully. "I'm sending you, Jack, and one other agent of your choosing."  
  
Sydney drew in a sharp breath, turning to her father with expectant eyes. He glanced at her, torn between her desperation and his omnipresent need to protect her. Looking back at Kendall, Jack squared his shoulders and prepared for a fight.  
  
"I'd like to take Sydney-"  
  
"Absolutely not," Kendall thundered before the words were even fully out of Jack's mouth. "She's not field certified yet. She hasn't completed her psychological counseling and Medical Services has not yet received the full results of her physical testing," Kendall turned his back to Jack and Sydney and started toward the door. "I thought I could trust you to make an educated decision, Jack, but apparently your daughter's talent for letting her feelings guide her actions is wearing off on you."  
  
"How long, Kendall?" Sydney suddenly shouted, halting Kendall at the door. He turned, his eyes steely.  
  
"How long what, Ms. Bristow?"  
  
"How long did you search for me after I went missing?" Sydney demanded, taking a step forward, her arms crossed over her chest. Agent Gleason sensed that he had no business being witness to this conversation and silently slipped from the room.  
  
Kendall's eyes darted from Sydney to Jack and back again. "I don't know exactly how long it was, Ms. Bristow. For as long as we thought beneficial."  
  
"How long, Dad?" Sydney asked over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving Kendall's face.  
  
"Two months," Jack answered, knowing it was useless to keep the truth from her or try to sugar coat it in any way.  
  
"Wow, two months," Sydney said sarcastically, her eyes narrowing. "That's all I was worth to you? A dedicated officer of this agency?"  
  
"The few leads we had evaporated, Ms. Bristow."   
  
"My father and Agent Vaughn continued to look for me for almost a year, following leads they received from independent contacts overseas, resources that were also available to you if you had chosen to utilize them," Sydney's voice was low and controlled as she inched closer to Kendall, her dark eyes boring into him.  
  
"I organized the extraction team from the very beginning," Kendall darted a finger in Sydney's direction, angry words spilling from between his clenched teeth. "I took command and I saw it through until the DOJ was satisfied that I had exhausted every lead and they called for an end to the search."  
  
Sydney let out a deep breath, a small, grim smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Well," She said, her voice dripping with mock relief. "It's encouraging to see that at least one thing hasn't changed in two years. You're still taking credit for everything and accepting blame for nothing."  
  
Jack took a step forward, ready to step in as he watched Kendall attempt to swallow the worst of his rage.  
  
"I am still your superior," Kendall seethed, every syllable under careful control. "You have no right to speak to me this way."  
  
Sydney backed off slightly, dropping her eyes to the floor. "No, you're right, I don't," She conceded, her voice considerably quieter and infused with genuine remorse. Meeting Kendall's eyes again, she continued. "I do have the right, however, to ask questions and get answers."  
  
Kendall visibly deflated, the wind of anger ebbing from his sails. He stepped back and straightened his tie, the color of his face returning to normal.  
  
"Believe me," He ventured, his voice quiet. "I'd like to find those answers just as much as you." Kendall sighed heavily, looking from Sydney's dark eyes to those of her father. "All right, Jack. Take her with you."  
  
Sydney's head snapped back as she registered her surprise. She looked up at her father, speechless. She never expected Kendall to change his mind.  
  
As a parting shot, Kendall turned in the doorway, his eyebrows raised. "You're welcome, Ms. Bristow." And with that, he was gone, the door slamming closed behind him.  
  
"Dad-" Sydney began excitedly before being cut off by her father.  
  
"Sydney, we'll have time to talk on the plane. We've got to get moving now, before Kendall changes his mind," Jack grabbed his notebook from the tabletop. "Go and get a change of clothes and anything else you'll need. I'll go deal with Op Tech and then expedite your certification."  
  
Sydney agreed, and once she and her father had decided what time to meet back at the ops center, she took off in pursuit of Will so she could borrow his car. She was just rounding the corner and about to make a beeline for Will's desk when someone called out her name.  
  
Sydney turned, her heart stopping momentarily as she recognized Vaughn's voice. Looking up, she noticed him coming toward her, a serious expression on his handsome face.  
  
"Follow me," He directed, smoothing down his tie as he passed Sydney by and headed for a pair of glass doors.  
  
Sydney inwardly groaned. Vaughn was taking her into what Weiss had formerly dubbed the "flirting corner". There were many places she wouldn't mind going with Vaughn; this was not one of them.  
  
"I'm kinda in a hurry," Sydney tried to sound breezy as she followed Vaughn into the small, dimly lit room.  
  
"I am, too, so I'll make this brief," Vaughn whirled on her, his green eyes dark, his face enforcing his no-nonsense tone. "I don't appreciate what you did yesterday. I think it was highly inappropriate."  
  
Sydney was taken aback, her mouth dropping open. She struggled to know how to respond, her mind working furiously.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," She attempted to play dumb, but she and Vaughn both knew it was miles beneath her.  
  
"Don't, Sydney," There was no warmth, no affection in Vaughn's voice. "You deliberately put yourself in Alice's path, hoping she'd remember you. I bet you were pleased when she did."  
  
"Don't paint me with such broad strokes, Vaughn."  
  
"But it's true, isn't it?" Vaughn challenged, his hands on his hips. "That wasn't about you trying to accept Alice or trying to confront our marriage or-"  
  
"Wait, where did you hear that?" Sydney demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"It doesn't matter-"  
  
"It does!" Sydney shouted, anger starting to swell. "Did Will tell you that? That Barnett had advised me to do that?"  
  
"No," Vaughn backed off a bit, his voice losing intensity. "I'm seeing Barnett, too."  
  
Sydney scoffed. "I didn't think she could share the kinds of things we discuss during my sessions."  
  
Vaughn sighed loudly and hung his head, dropping his hands to his sides. "I asked her to tell me," He admitted, avoiding Sydney's eyes. "I wanted to know what she had advised in regards to my marriage so that I could help you-"  
  
Sydney's anger reached the boiling point and spilled over. "I don't need your help!" She seethed, resentment for Vaughn and his wedding ring fueling her outburst. "What I need from you is the truth!"  
  
"Truth?" Vaughn demanded. "What truth? About what?"  
  
"You lied to me," Sydney pointed her finger at Vaughn's chest.  
  
Vaughn took a step back, astonished by her accusation. "How so?"   
  
"You led me to believe that you and Alice had been married for months!" Sydney hissed. "You've only been married for seven days!"  
  
Vaughn was momentarily speechless.  
  
"I never told you that we'd been married for months," He said indignantly.  
  
"No, you didn't," Sydney agreed, her dark eyes ablaze. "But you did tell me she was pregnant. If you're going to share that information, you might as well tell me that's the reason you married her!"  
  
Vaughn let out a defiant grunt, his eyes wide. "Whether or not that is true is none of your business."  
  
"You made it my business by telling me she was pregnant!" Sydney reasoned loudly. "Look, Vaughn, we made it clear to each other a long time ago that keeping secrets and telling lies doesn't work for us," She reminded him. "We don't work well together if we lie to each other."  
  
"We don't work together," Vaughn put in dismissively, his eyes flashing. Sydney was startled by the flippant nature of his words, as if he didn't mind if they never worked together again.  
  
"Not right now," Sydney faltered briefly, hastily trying to cover the wound Vaughn had so easily opened. "But the time will come when we will. Kendall is sending me out now, to Nepal, with my father."  
  
It was Vaughn's turn to be startled. "You're not even certified," He stammered.  
  
"We're going to find Derevko," Sydney continued calmly. "Once we do, we're bringing her back here. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Kendall will send you and I out after Sloane."  
  
Vaughn was quiet, watching Sydney carefully. He was having a hard time concentrating on her words; all he kept thinking was that he didn't want her to go. If she left, if she was out of sight again, there was a chance that she would not return. It was a chance Vaughn didn't want to even consider. For a moment, he felt sick.  
  
"I'm not sure this is wise," He muttered, his eyes darting to the floor. "Does Kendall know what he's doing?"  
  
"I insisted," Sydney interjected. "I need to find my mother."  
  
Vaughn looked up slowly, his face a mask for his true emotions. When his eyes met Sydney's once more, she was hit with a memory so vivid it took her breath away. Right before SD-6 had been destroyed, Vaughn had pulled her into this room and spilled out his heart. He'd confessed that during debriefs, all he wanted to do was kiss her, and when she went on missions, he couldn't sleep at night. And she had smiled, hearing with her ears what she'd known with her heart for months.  
  
Sydney squeezed her eyes shut against the images, secretly cursing her memory for so easily recalling things like this when all she wanted to do was remember something, anything about the two years she had been gone. She willed herself to focus on the moment she was in.  
  
"You told me she was pregnant, Vaughn, knowing full well that sooner or later I'd find out when you got married," Sydney said quietly as she twisted the cuff of one of her sleeves around her slender fingers. Raising her eyes to his, she continued, speaking deliberately. "How can I not question the depth of your feelings for her?"  
  
"You don't know a thing about my feelings for Alice," Vaughn replied coolly. "And it's not your place to question it," He went on, his voice authoritative. "We may work together again, but things have changed. The old rules are out the window."  
  
Inside, Sydney was reeling. Outwardly, she remained calm, her cool demeanor a reflection of Vaughn's.  
  
"I agree, everything has changed," She nodded. "Except this: we don't lie to each other."  
  
Vaughn considered this for a moment, unwilling to concede too quickly. "Agreed," He said finally. "But from now on - our relationship is all business. Strictly professional."  
  
"Good." Sydney turned to leave, her conflicting emotions beginning to overwhelm her. She needed to get out now before she succumbed to the tears that were begging to fall.  
  
"One more thing," Vaughn said to her just as she reached to pull open the door. Vaughn waited until Sydney turned to meet his stoic gaze. "My marriage, my wife - it's all off limits. We're never speaking of this again."  
  
Sydney couldn't help the sharp breath that rushed from her mouth as she was confronted by Vaughn's harsh tone. All she could do was nod, blinking hard to fight the moisture welling in her eyes. Once Vaughn turned away, she was out the door, making it as far as the women's bathroom before she gave in and flooded her cheeks with a torrent of tears.  
  
Staring at her reflection through watery eyes, Sydney stood at the mirror, her mind reeling. She sniffed, her breath coming in ragged bursts as the last of her sobs died away. How? She asked herself. How had things gotten so far away from that tender place she and Vaughn had shared just two short years ago? Back in that time, in that place, they never would have spoken so harshly, with such venom, to each other. And now? Now everything was terribly, terribly wrong.  
  
Sydney grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser. As she began to dab at her eyes, she stopped, leaning forward and gazing intently at her face in the mirror. The past few days she had noticed subtle changes, small lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes, evidence of aging she did not recall. It struck her then how much she resembled her mother, from the shape of her lips to the size of her hands.  
  
Sydney took a deep breath. She was determined to unlock the mystery of the last two years - and she was convinced that Irina Derevko held the key. Her mind set, she left her tears behind as she walked out of the bathroom. There would be plenty of time later to deal with her feelings about Vaughn. It was a long flight to Nepal.  
  
"Hi, honey. How was work?"  
  
Vaughn walked through the front door of the apartment, his tie hanging loosely from his neck. He glanced up to see Alice in the middle of the living room in her nightgown, watching him with expectant eyes.  
  
"Hi," Vaughn returned the greeting, closing the door and locking it before turning to his wife to give her a kiss. She smiled and squeezed him for a moment before pulling away and following him to the bedroom.  
  
"I got your message," Alice went to the bedside and began turning back the bed linens. She picked up her pillow and briefly fluffed it before moving on to Vaughn's. "I'm sorry you had to work so late. Must've been a big problem, huh?"  
  
Vaughn wearily opened the closet door and began to remove his tie, loosening it completely.  
  
"Yeah, it was a mess," He said, referring vaguely to the made-up excuse he'd left on Alice's cell phone to explain his late hours. "I'm exhausted. I'll probably go to sleep the second my head hits the pillow."  
  
"You look pretty worn out," Alice mused, her hands on her hips. She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Would you like a quick backrub?"  
  
Vaughn smiled back. "No, honey, that's okay. Thanks." He ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. Reaching for his toothbrush, he glanced up at his reflection in the mirror and had difficulty meeting his own eyes. He'd been feeling like a jerk ever since his conversation with Sydney. They'd never spoken so meanly before and he was not handling it well.  
  
A few minutes later, Vaughn returned to the bedroom. Alice had turned the lights out and was under the covers, propped up on one elbow. She watched as Vaughn pulled on a pair of blue striped sleep pants. The last thing he did, as he'd done every night since they'd married, was remove his wedding ring and place it carefully on the bedside table. He gazed down at it for a moment, the memory of purchasing it the afternoon of their nuptials fresh in his mind.  
  
He remembered thinking of Sydney when he'd first slipped the ring on his finger. He remembered feeling a small twinge of regret and sadness as he'd admired the gold band on his left hand. And now as he looked at it, he felt a hint of resentment, a nagging that had been born in his thoughts in a safe house in Hong Kong.  
  
"My mother said to say hello," Alice said casually as Vaughn slipped into the bed next to her, sliding under the sheet.  
  
Vaughn winced. "Oh, Alice, I forgot that we were going to tell her tonight," He was sincerely apologetic. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay," Alice shrugged. "I told her you had to work, it's fine," She pulled the blanket up to her chest. "I waited until after dinner, when we were having dessert. I can't believe I was able to wait so long - I was so excited."  
  
"What'd she say?" Vaughn settled back against his pillow.  
  
"She was ecstatic!" Alice announced happily. "She got that knowing look, of course, because we just got married, but - she's okay with it. She's happy for us."  
  
"I bet she'll make a great grandma," Vaughn offered, although his heart was not in this conversation.  
  
"Oh, the baby will be so spoiled," Alice laughed. "That's not even a question!" She leaned in to Vaughn and slipped her arms around him, nuzzling into his neck. "I love you, Michael. I'm so happy for us."  
  
"I love you, too," Vaughn whispered. He hugged her tightly, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, and then pulled away. "I'm sorry, Alice, I'm just so tired."  
  
"It's okay," Alice seemed mildly disappointed, but she smiled. "Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
Alice rolled over onto her back, settling herself beneath the covers. Vaughn watched her for a moment before he rolled onto his side, facing the wall, facing away from his wife. He closed his eyes for a moment and then snapped them open again. He knew it was no use. No matter what he told Alice, he was not going to go to sleep. It just was not possible.  
  
Vaughn glanced over at the digital clock on the bedside table, silently wondering what time it was in Nepal.  
  
******  
  
A/N: Thank you again for the thoughtful reviews - I'm inspired by your kindness. Also, thanks to denelyn_196 for the humbling compliment. Believe me, it would be a dream come true to write for the show. If anyone knows where to apply for that gig, let me know - I'll be the first in line. 


	6. Slipping Through

Chapter Six: Slipping Through  
  
The airplane rolled to a stop on the tarmac at the small airstrip in Nepal. A staircase was rolled into place with a bump just as the door to the private aircraft slid open to reveal a stunning woman dressed head to toe in black, her bare shoulders shimmering under the midday sun.  
  
A short, homely man scrambled up the stairs, his left hand outstretched to greet the passengers. With his other hand, he pulled an aging straw fedora from his balding head and revealed his sweat-beaded brow and a dozen or so wispy strands of gray hair flailing in the mild breeze.  
  
Just as he reached the top of the staircase, the young woman stepped aside and a distinguished older gentleman appeared behind her, his dark suit a perfect match to his hair and moustache. He squinted in the bright sunlight and stepped forward as the man on the stairs came to his side.  
  
The woman descended the steps, leaving the men behind as introductions began.  
  
"Mr. Dimitri, I presume," The sweaty, red-faced bald man ventured, his British accent proper and polite. "I'm Nigel, from the hotel. I'm to be your driver for the duration of your visit."  
  
"Pleasure to meet you, Nigel," Dimitri intoned, his Russian accent thick, his voice deep.  
  
Nigel started back down the steps, Dimitri close behind as a steward from the airplane followed with the luggage.  
  
"Mr. Khata wanted to be here to welcome you," Nigel said, huffing from the exertion of exercise in the midday heat. "It's not everyday his hotel is graced with such distinguished guests." Nigel reached the ground and stepped aside, allowing Dimitri and the steward to pass. "Mr. Khata had a previous engagement, but he asked that I see to your needs. I am delighted to be at your service."  
  
Nigel turned to the lovely woman at his side, his expression expectant. She was beautiful, her ginger-colored hair a sleek bob outdone only by her smoky bedroom eyes which were now hidden by a pair of black sunglasses. Only a few elegant gold bangles at her wrist and an opulent pair of black onyx earrings accented her sexy halter dress and high heels.  
  
"Hello, miss," Nigel cautiously introduced himself, nervous to extend his sweaty palm. "I'm Nigel. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."  
  
"Natalya," Her voice, also heavily accented, was a deep and sultry rumble.  
  
"Oh, well, then," Nigel cleared his throat, glancing from Natalya to Dimitri and back again. "As your driver, I'm instructed to take you wherever you'd like. Does anyone have any particular-"  
  
"Take me to a bar," Natalya commanded, interrupting Nigel as she began to walk toward the waiting Mercedes. "I want to drink."  
  
Mildly stunned, Nigel watched her walk away for a moment before turning back to Dimitri, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide a small, satisfied smile.  
  
"I trust the hotel casino has a lounge?"  
  
Nigel smiled brightly. "Only the absolute best in Katmandu."  
  
Dimitri nodded. "Fine, then," He said dismissively. "To the hotel."  
  
"Right away, sir," Nigel hurried to the Mercedes, stuffing his hat back onto his head before opening the back door for his prestigious passengers.  
  
Natalya and Dimitri slid into the back seat and casually waited for transport as Nigel closed the door and walked back to the trunk to be sure their luggage was secure. At that point, Jack turned to Sydney, the quiet grin returning to his lips.  
  
"Nice."  
  
Sydney smiled appreciatively. "Thank you," She said, her accent suddenly returning as Nigel opened the car door and slid in behind the wheel. "It's too hot," She hissed. "Turn on the damn cold air."  
  
"Yes, miss. Right away, miss," Nigel nervously started the car and engaged the air conditioning. As the interior began to cool down, he expertly steered the Mercedes off of the airstrip and onto the main road leading to Katmandu.  
  
Bearing stoic faces, Jack and Sydney remained silent for the twenty-minute trip to the hotel.  
  
After assisting them at check-in and struggling to carry their bags, Nigel left Sydney and Jack alone in their hotel suite with directions to the casino and an assurance he would be willing and able to assist them if ever they should need it.  
  
After thanking Nigel and walking him to the door, Jack closed and locked it securely, pausing to gaze out the peephole for several quiet moments. Once he was satisfied, he turned to Sydney and nodded. This was her cue to sweep the room for bugs; she did so with quiet efficiency and then smiled at her father as she returned the detection device to her suitcase.  
  
"Room's clean."  
  
Jack drew in a deep breath and glanced at his watch. "We've got an hour until the meeting," He said. "Let's freshen up and get down to the casino."  
  
The cacophony of tinny music, coins plinking into jackpot slots and excited shouts from fortunate gamblers assaulted Sydney's ears as she bellied up the casino bar. Taming her wind-blown wig and expertly retouching her make- up had done nothing to freshen her mood; she was bothered by the heat and the nagging suspicion that her mother, ever elusive and mysterious, would not make her scheduled appearance.  
  
The bartender slapped a white cocktail napkin on the ebony bar and was quick to fetch Sydney's drink order. She plucked the olive from her Stoli martini and popped it into her mouth while taking a surreptitious glance over her right shoulder.  
  
Her father's voice was in her ear, transmitted from his diamond lapel pin to one of her lush onyx earrings.  
  
"I'm heading for the poker tables. To your left, seven o'clock."  
  
Sydney lifted a hand to her mouth, lazily brushing her ruby red lips as she spoke into her gold bracelets.  
  
"Check," She glanced back in his direction and spotted him out of the corner of her eye as he slid into a seat at the card table and was quickly dealt into the game.  
  
The vodka warmed Sydney's throat as she took a sip. Wary of her empty stomach, save for the lone olive, she took the alcohol slowly. The last thing she needed was to be anywhere close to blotto if and when Irina Derevko entered the casino.  
  
"She's late," Sydney murmured into her wrist nearly two hours later, nursing yet another martini, the olive her lone distraction.  
  
"Be patient," Jack said in reply.  
  
Sydney exhaled deeply, reaching for her purse. Opening it, she pulled out her mirrored compact and quickly inspected her face. Her lipstick had transferred to the rim of her martini glass; she was about to grab the tube and reapply when she spotted something in the small mirror. Over her right shoulder, a Middle Eastern man was entering the casino with a large companion, a meaty fellow with eyes that darted about the room in a way that struck Sydney as more than simple curiosity.  
  
"Dad," Sydney slid off the stool after quickly scattering a few dollars on the bar. "I've just spotted Mujari and his bodyguard."  
  
"I saw them, too. Meet me at the fountain."  
  
Across the casino, behind a bank of slot machines, Sydney and Jack pretended to be enjoying the small marble fountain as they quietly discussed strategy.  
  
"He's taken a seat at a table in the bar," Jack observed, peering through a thin space between two of the obnoxious machines. Sydney slid into the seat in front of one of them and dropped in a few coins.  
  
She pulled the lever and sent the wheels spinning. "It's too risky to sit anywhere close by him," She stated, feigning dismay when her bet yielded nothing. "If Mom sees us, it'll be game over."  
  
Jack suddenly stiffened. "No time to debate that," He said. "She's here."  
  
Sydney fought the urge to spring up from the stool. She inserted a few more coins and pulled the lever again, casually shifting to her left as her father moved an inch or two aside. Between the machines and through the sparse branches of a palm tree, Sydney laid her eyes on Irina Derevko.  
  
Irina sashayed into the casino, a gauzy azure dress hugging her curves, the hem lapping at her bronzed thighs as she strolled into the bar and took a seat at the table directly behind Mujari and his hired man. Sydney marveled at her confidence; she was without disguise and seemingly without worry.  
  
Swallowing an emotion too close to envy, Sydney glanced up at her father to find him carefully watching her, his slate gray eyes trained on her face as if he expected to observe some odd or ungainly transformation.  
  
"If you're thinking that the sight of her sparked some sort of recognition or recovery of lost memory, you're mistaken," Sydney's voice was low but full of intent. "All I feel right now is how wrong it would be to have her this close and then let her get away."  
  
Sydney stood, opening her purse to put her hand on her gun. Her father was not surprised to find her expression cold, her eyes like hardened steel.  
  
"Take a position near enough to the bar to keep an eye on her, but not so close that she can spot you. I'll go back to the poker table; I can watch her and the door from there." Jack quickly reached inside his suit coat and checked his weapon. Reassured, he met Sydney's eyes. "We're not letting her go."  
  
"I know," She answered, pausing only briefly to nod at him before disappearing around the corner of the slot machines.  
  
Striding purposefully into the bar, Sydney was careful to avoid her mother's table as she moved to the opposite side, taking a seat at a table that afforded her as clear a view as she could confidently get. She steadied herself, breathing deeply, scooting her seat a little to the right to allow her gaze to be partially hidden by an overgrown potted plant. Just as she was setting her purse in her lap, her fingers reaching for the butt of her pistol, she caught a glimpse of a figure approaching her from the left.  
  
"Dad," Sydney swept strands of her hair from her cheek as she whispered into the gilded bangles. "Nigel is coming to my table."  
  
"Get rid of him."  
  
"My thoughts exactly," Sydney quickly lowered her hand to her lap as Nigel reached her side, clutching his ratty fedora, his tobacco stained teeth revealed to her in full as his thin lips stretched into a smile.  
  
"Miss Natalya," He boomed, his voice far louder than was necessary. "How are you finding the casino?"  
  
Sydney glared at him, her dark eyes smoldering. "It's much too loud," She spat out, intending to make him instantly uncomfortable.  
  
No such luck.  
  
"Well, then," He glanced around, the grin never leaving his pallid face. "It is a casino-"  
  
"The drinks are watered down," Sydney continued venomously. "You should do something about this." Her Russian accent thickened as her agitation grew. "It is displeasing me."  
  
Nigel was finally caught off-guard, the wattage of his smile dimming somewhat. "I shall, of course, mention that," He nodded quickly. "How was your room? Are the accommodations suitable?"  
  
"Why ask me stupid questions?" Sydney demanded. "You are making me unhappy."  
  
"I'm sorry," Nigel stammered, his brow furrowed. "I didn't mean-"  
  
Jack's urgent voice was in Sydney's ear. "Get rid of him, Sydney."  
  
"Go away!" Sydney hissed.  
  
"Miss Natalya-"  
  
"Now, Sydney. Derevko seems to be wrapping up-"  
  
"I simply wish to make sure your stay here is-"  
  
"She's suspicious, looking around the bar. Shut him up or she will see you!"  
  
"Get the hell away from me, you insipid beast!" Sydney seethed as she rose from her seat, her face inches from Nigel's as his eyes grew wide. "I will not say it again!"  
  
Nigel spun on his heel and bumped into a waiter carrying a tray full of drinks. Clattering to the floor, the glasses breaking, the tray slammed against the tile with a loud bang.  
  
Sydney whirled just as Mujari and his bodyguard sprang to their feet, guns drawn in her direction. She pulled her own weapon and paused long enough to make eye contact with her mother. Irina's eyes were saucers, her mouth open in surprise. She turned to her companions just as Mujari raised his weapon to fire, his eyes locked on Sydney's face.  
  
"No!" Irina shouted, shoving Mujari to the side. His bodyguard roared and turned to Irina. Before he could fire a single shot, her elbow clipped his jaw and sent him spinning. He fired wildly into the air, his errant bullets striking the stunned waiter and Nigel as they both tried to make sense of what they were witnessing.  
  
The gunfire spat across the room as Sydney dove for cover, hurling her body over the bar. She hit the gritty floor with a thud, forcing the air from her lungs. Gasping, she pushed herself up, the image of Derevko making a getaway propelling her to her feet.  
  
"Are you all right?" Jack's anxious voice boomed.  
  
"Fine!" Sydney shouted. "I'm not letting her get away!"  
  
Poking her head above the bar, Sydney witnessed Mujari and his man scrambling, overturning tables in their attempt to escape the bar. Irina was pushing past them, glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes met Sydney's briefly, long enough to compel Sydney to leap over the bar and give chase.  
  
"Derevko!" She shouted, raising her weapon. Irina stopped only long enough to change direction and darted behind a bank of slots. Sydney followed, her heels clacking angrily on the tile as she upped her speed, her breath in rapid bursts. She thought of nothing but stopping her mother's escape, unaware as blood dripped down her shin, the skin of her knee split and oozing crimson.  
  
Irina plowed through the silver swinging door leading into the kitchen. Dodging waiters and cooks, she darted around prep tables and sped past the grill, passing through a cloud of smoke and Eastern spices. Sydney was only a few steps behind, shoving a bus boy to the side as she rounded the corner of a steam table, her weapon before her and trained on the back of her mother's head.  
  
Irina burst into a storage room, finding herself suddenly blocked in. One wall was floor to ceiling coolers and a freezer, the other wall a row of shelves stocked with canned goods. She paused by what appeared to be a heating duct, the square opening tempting to her. It looked large enough to accommodate her, and she was about to consider diving in when she heard her daughter's voice.  
  
"Mom," Sydney commanded, stopping in the doorway. "Don't move."  
  
Irina raised her hands slightly, her mouth curling into a smile as she tried to catch her breath.  
  
"It's good to see you, Sydney."  
  
"Get on the floor," Sydney gripped her weapon with both hands, her heart racing, her breathing heavy. Sweat trickled down her neck, her every nerve on alert.  
  
Irina started to slowly step backward, watching her daughter's eyes carefully as she backed into the stainless steel freezer doors.  
  
"You look good. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Get on the floor!" Sydney repeated, troubled by the silence in her earpiece. She had expected to see her father by now, or at the very least, hear his voice. "I won't hesitate to shoot you, Mom," Sydney told her, her eyes flashing. "Don't tempt me."  
  
"You don't remember a thing, do you?" Irina narrowed her eyes, her smile lessening. "About Hong Kong, or Madagascar-"  
  
"Madagascar?" Sydney couldn't help the word that slipped from her mouth, her brow furrowing. "What about Madagascar?"  
  
"I'll tell you all about it," Irina nodded at her daughter, her eyes imploring. "But not right now. I need you to trust me. I need more time-"  
  
"More time? You've had all the time you have coming," Sydney's eyes were hard again. "Get on the floor! Don't make me say it again!"  
  
Irina lowered her eyes to the floor, the grubby linoleum scuffed and unappealing. She raised her eyes again and immediately sprang forward, her hands outstretched.  
  
"Sydney!" She cried just as the first shot rang out, the bullet whizzing past Sydney's left ear. Sydney spun to see Mujari approaching through the kitchen, his weapon raised, the muzzle flashing as he squeezed the trigger again and again.  
  
Sydney tried to return fire but her weapon jammed, clicking repeatedly as she tugged at the trigger. With nowhere to run and Mujari closing in, the bitter taste of panic rose in Sydney's throat.  
  
Irina rushed forward, attempting to shield her daughter with her own body. She was foiled as a bullet ripped through the flesh of her upper arm, driving her back. She sprawled across the dirty tile, a guttural cry of pain rushing from her throat.  
  
Out of options, Sydney frantically searched for an escape, a place she could go, any way to survive. Spying the open duct, she gave no further thought to the possibility before diving forward, forcing her body through the hole and instantly finding herself plunging into icy water.  
  
Sydney gasped, drawing the frigid liquid into her mouth. It wasn't a heating duct at all but a holding tank of sorts, a well from which to draw cold water. Her mind spun in endless directions as she sank, the inertia of her escape propelling her deeper into the freezing water. Shock was replaced by fear and that, again, by panic. The shaft was only as wide as her body, the space too small for her to turn around.  
  
Sydney opened her eyes for a moment, but the cold forced her to shut them again. She clutched her gun with one hand while feeling around with the other, her fingers beginning to stiffen. She groped for something, anything she could use to release herself: a drain plug, a pipe she could push against to raise herself up, anything to offer assistance. Finding none, she pushed against her panic, willing her lungs not to give up as they burned and ached for precious oxygen.  
  
Sydney ran her hand up the smooth surface before her, the metal side of the tank. It was relatively thin, giving slightly when she pushed against it. Raising her gun, she crowded her body back against the opposite side of the shaft and pressed the muzzle of the gun against the metal. If she could shoot a hole in it and let the water out, she might have a fighting chance.  
  
Sydney instinctively turned her face away and squeezed the trigger.  
  
Nothing. The damn gun was still jammed.  
  
With nothing left to keep her from panicking, Sydney began to beat on the metal, her fists striking determinedly even though her fingers were completely numb. She let out a frustrated cry, the sound dispersing into the water, traveling no further than her own ears.  
  
Her lungs unable to hold out any longer, Sydney slowly opened her eyes and exhaled deeply. Just as she was about to let go, the memory of her mother trying to shield her flashed in her mind, followed by a sharp recollection of years ago, an image of Vaughn, his lips pressed to her neck as he cradled her in his protective arms. It was a nice thought to have and Sydney gave herself over to it, the bittersweet memory of his affection a lovely way to usher her into unconsciousness, her mind fading to black.  
  
Resigned to her fate, Sydney didn't notice the two strong hands that suddenly gripped her ankles and yanked her upwards. She was limp, her body offering no resistance as she was pulled from the icy depth, her clothing saturated, her fingers blue and locked around the butt of her pistol.  
  
Jack struggled to quickly extract Sydney from the frigid water, holding her against his body as he lowered her to the floor. Her eyes were closed, her lips purple, water cascading down her cheeks as it poured from her sodden hair.  
  
"Sydney!" Jack called her name loudly, laying her down on the grimy linoleum, prying the useless weapon from her hand. He patted her cheeks, shocked at how cold they were. "Sydney, wake up," He demanded just before he pressed his ear to her chest. He heard her heart beating faintly, but she didn't appear to be breathing. Jack immediately closed his lips around hers, breathing hard into her mouth.  
  
A few short rounds of rescue breathing was all it took for Sydney to violently gasp, coughing out water, gagging on the liquid as it forced its way from her throat. Jack rolled her to her side, allowing her to clear her mouth. She breathed in deeply, gulping in air as her eyes sprang open. She was groggy, her mind cloudy.  
  
"C'mon, sweetheart, let's go," Jack yanked off his suit jacket and draped it around Sydney's shoulders as he held her upright, her limp arms hanging at her sides.  
  
"Mom," Sydney moaned as Jack stood up slowly, his daughter in his strong arms.  
  
"She's gone," Jack said, not without a degree of disdain. He stepped over the lifeless body of Kudar Mujari and carried his daughter back through the kitchen and out a side door that led them into an alley behind the hotel.  
  
In a matter of minutes, Jack pushed through the door to their room, careful to lock it behind them. He knew they couldn't stay there for long; undoubtedly the hotel management and local authorities would be quick to investigate. The CIA frowned on such attention and Jack knew they had to make a hasty escape. First and foremost, however, his concern was for his daughter.  
  
Jack carried Sydney into the bathroom and set her gingerly in the bathtub. Ignoring the ache in his arms, he removed his suit coat from her shoulders and turned on the shower, turning the faucet as far toward the "H" as it would go. The hot water poured over Sydney and she involuntarily gasped, seeming to come around as the heat spread from her head down to her feet.  
  
Jack grabbed Sydney's luggage and pulled out clean, dry clothes.  
  
"Sydney, you need to change your clothes," Jack coaxed. "I'm going to do the same and then we have to get out of here."  
  
"What about Mom?" Sydney asked, her voice small, her eyes searching her father's face.  
  
Jack frowned. "I have an idea of where she might be heading. We'll talk about it on the plane," He directed. "Right now - change your clothes." Jack left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.  
  
Jack went to his suitcase, starting to unbutton his damp dress shirt. Just as he was pulling it off, his satellite com-link began to chirp. He grabbed it from the bag, slipping it over his ear, adjusting the small microphone before activating the device.  
  
"Jack Bristow."  
  
"Jack, this is Kendall. You need to return to LA immediately."  
  
Jack looked at his watch. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning in LA. He was more than a little perplexed to be hearing from Kendall at this hour.  
  
"Derevko evaded us," Jack replied. He continued to root through his suitcase as he spoke. "We're catching a flight to Moscow. I have a feeling- "  
  
"You're catching a flight to LA," Kendall interrupted. "They're waiting for you at the airstrip."  
  
"Time is of the essence here, Kendall. Derevko is-"  
  
"Jack," Something in Kendall's voice roughly grabbed Jack's attention. "You must return immediately."  
  
Jack was almost afraid to ask. "Why?"  
  
"It's about Sydney," Kendall said, his tone softening. "Dr. Wick alerted me. Something slipped through her original blood work that they just now discovered."  
  
Jack forgot about his suitcase and glanced back over his shoulder at the bathroom door. He heard the shower shut off, a groan as Sydney pulled herself to her feet. "What is it?" He queried, his pulse quickening.  
  
"Jack," Kendall sighed. Static on the line crackled and popped as he waited what seemed an eternity to continue. "Sydney needs to report to medical services right away."  
  
******  
  
A/N: That sound you hear is me heaving a huge sigh of relief to finally be posting this chapter after five weeks of intense writer's block brought on by pressures at work and the sometimes-wonderful-sometimes-not daily existence we call life. Please review me - let me know if all the money I spent on stress relief aroma therapy candles was worth it. 


	7. Slings and Arrows

Chapter Seven: Slings and Arrows  
  
"Ten bucks says the first thing he brings up is the Nepal op."  
  
Marshall Flinkman flinched and steadied his coffee cup as Eric Weiss elbowed him in the ribs. "Wh-what?" He followed Weiss's gaze, a knowing smile crossing his lips when he noticed Michael Vaughn enter the conference room and come their way.  
  
Vaughn slid into a seat next to his colleagues, a wan smile on his lips. "Good morning," He nodded to each of them. "How are you?"  
  
"Great," Weiss shuffled a few of the documents on the table before him.  
  
"Fine," Marshall offered. "Actually, I'm good, thanks for asking. I mean, I'm kinda upset that it's raining, cuz I was really hoping to be able to test this new solar powered propulsion device that I designed, but it can wait, I guess, until-"  
  
"That's fascinating, Marshall," Weiss turned and gave him a pointed look.  
  
"Oh, right! Right," Marshall nodded vigorously, turning his attention to the coffee cup in his hands.  
  
The brief silence that followed was broken when Vaughn cleared his throat as he opened the notebook he carried and distractedly ran his eyes down a page of handwritten notes.  
  
Casually, he ventured, "Any news about the Nepal mission?"   
  
"Hey!" Marshall shouted, hot coffee splashing his hand as Weiss, again, elbowed him sharply in the ribs.  
  
"Oh, man, Marshall, I'm sorry," Weiss was trying desperately to keep from laughing outright. He grabbed the handkerchief from his back pocket and offered it as penance, dabbing at the coffee splatters on Marshall's shirt.  
  
Marshall, never one to hold a grudge, accepted the assistance with a smile as Vaughn looked on in bewilderment.  
  
"What is up with you guys this morning?" He asked, shaking his head. "Looks like I'm not the only one who didn't get enough sleep."  
  
After refusing Marshall's attempt to give him back his now coffee-soaked handkerchief, Weiss turned to Vaughn with a smirk.  
  
"Didn't sleep much last night, eh?"  
  
Vaughn cast him a weary look. "Any news about the Nepal mission?" He repeated his original question, knowing Weiss did not need him to connect the dots.  
  
"Well, she's back, and in one piece, if that's what you're wanting to know," Weiss busied himself with his paperwork, pulling a pen from his breast pocket.  
  
"And the objective?" Vaughn prompted.  
  
Weiss sighed, meeting Vaughn's eyes as he laid down his pen. "C'mon, man, you and I both know the mission objective is not really what you're concerned about."  
  
"Whoa, hey, look at the time," Marshall jumped in, animatedly checking his watch. "The meeting should've started five minutes ago and we're the only ones here. I'd better go find out what's going on." He was halfway out of his chair when the door opened and Will Tippin stepped in.  
  
"Meeting's been postponed, guys," He said apologetically.  
  
Weiss sighed and slapped his notebook closed, gathering up his paperwork before getting to his feet. Vaughn was close behind, trailing Weiss and Marshall as they headed for the door. Before Vaughn cleared the doorway, Will grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side.  
  
The look in Will's eyes immediately set Vaughn on edge. "What's up, Will?" He asked, his brow furrowing with concern.  
  
Will glanced around furtively before finally meeting Vaughn's eyes. "I'm not sure if you want to know this or not," He said, fidgeting with the employee badge and lanyard around his neck.  
  
Vaughn was trying hard not to be impatient. "Know what, Will?" He supplied, gesturing for Will to continue.  
  
Will sighed. He wanted to let Vaughn in on what was happening, knowing that if the situation was reversed, he'd want someone to do the same for him. His loyalty to Sydney, however, didn't make it easy.   
  
"Look, man," Will glanced around again, making sure there was no one around to overhear. Before going on, he reached over and pushed the door shut. "I don't know what kind of relationship you and Sydney have right now, if any at all. But if you still care about her, and I suspect you do, I think you'll want to know this."  
  
Moments later, Weiss was just hanging up the phone when the conference room door swung open and Vaughn passed by, his brow knit with worry.  
  
"Hey, Mikey - what's up?" Weiss got to his feet, following Vaughn to his workstation.  
  
Vaughn stopped long enough to drop off his notebook before he turned and nearly jogged as he headed for the long corridor leading out of the main work area of the ops center.  
  
"I have to get to med services," He called over his shoulder, purposely avoiding Weiss's eyes.  
  
"Hey!" Weiss yelled after him. "I think you should know - your wife just called!" The extra emphasis on the word "wife" had no impact - Vaughn didn't stop or turn around and Weiss soon lost sight of him as he darted around a corner.  
  
Weiss dropped his hands to his sides and exhaled sharply as Marshall approached, a fresh cup of coffee in hand.  
  
"Unbelievable," Weiss said bitterly, his dark eyes stormy. "He's got two women who'd basically do anything for him and I can't even get one to give me the time of day."   
  
Marshall nodded in sympathy, blowing gently across the surface of his steamy beverage. "Some guys, you know, they're just lucky like that," He narrowed his eyes in feigned disgust just as his cell phone began to ring. He pulled it from his belt, answering it quickly. After listening for a moment, he asked the caller to hang on and gave Weiss an apologetic smile. "Excuse me, Eric - it's my wife."  
  
The door had been left open just enough that the serious, hushed voices in the hallway floated in and fell upon Sydney's ears, whispering words to her she didn't have the strength to hear. The strength she lacked most, however, was that which was needed to get up and close the door. She chose to remain on the white-sheeted cot in the medical services exam room, curled up in a ball, her fists clutching tissues she'd used to dab at her own tears.  
  
The gynecologist had been and gone, leaving marks upon her psyche although none remained on her skin from the pushing she had done on Sydney's abdomen, the pressure made worse by the full bladder she'd been forced to maintain so the ultrasound pictures could come out clear. The images captured had passed her by; the monitor had been turned from her view and the digital readouts were passed to Dr. Wick without so much as a cursory glance.  
  
Dr. Wick had come in to explain, of course; every step of the testing was laid out for her. Although she understood the words, she didn't grasp the full significance. The name of the drug found in her system, the scar on her belly, the ultrasound, the scheduled MRI; it all made sense mentally, but emotionally it was beyond comprehension.  
  
Sydney heard her father's voice, louder and more insistent than the rest. "What does it mean?" He was asking, each time growing more impatient when the answers weren't enough.  
  
Sydney rolled over and faced the wall, tucking her hands beneath the thin pillow, closing her itchy eyes and squeezing out fresh tears. They dripped noiselessly to the pillowcase, little salt rivers running down her flushed cheeks.  
  
"Sydney, sweetheart," Her father's hand was on her shoulder, his palm warm through the paper-thin medical gown she wore. "Are you all right?"  
  
Sydney sniffed and rolled onto her back, looking up at her father with watery eyes. She dabbed at them, the tissues in her hands beginning to disintegrate. Seeing this, Jack reached into his pocket and retrieved his handkerchief. When he pressed it into Sydney's waiting palm, she closed her fingers around his and held on, silently pleading for comfort.   
  
"Dad, I don't understand," She admitted, her voice lost in the midst of a sob.  
  
Jack's brow furrowed, his lips turning from a hard line into a helpless frown. He turned, and without releasing Sydney's hand, pulled a chair to her bedside so he could sit with her for a while.  
  
"Dr. Wick said he explained-" Jack began, stopping when Sydney gripped his hand harder, tears flooding her cheeks once again.  
  
"No, Dad, I understand the testing, I just don't understand why," She paused to catch her breath, waiting for her sobs to subside. "How does this fit in? What place does this have in anything that happened to me in the last two years?" Sydney pulled her hand back, unfolding her father's handkerchief to wipe her eyes.  
  
"I wish I had answers for you, Sydney," Jack said. He watched her try to compose herself yet again, startled when she suddenly let out an angry, frustrated shout.  
  
"I'm so pissed off that Mom got away!" Sydney slammed a fist down on the thin mattress. The whole bed rattled beneath her. "I know she has answers for me. I know she knows what all of this-" Sydney waved her hands over her stomach. "-is all about."  
  
"Sydney, I wasn't sure I should tell you this," Jack began cautiously. "I don't want you to think I'm abandoning you while all this testing and uncertainty is going on."  
  
"Tell me what?" Sydney pleaded, hopeful for good news. She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow, reaching out to her father, gripping his hand once more. "Please, Dad."  
  
"I've gotten Kendall's approval to pursue your mother to Moscow," Jack lowered his eyes, gazing at his daughter's hand as it rested in his own. The fingernail polish she had applied as part of her "Natalya" cover had been hastily rubbed off by a med services nurse; streaks of color remained at the edges of her nails, vestiges of ruby red not so easily erased.  
  
"Moscow?" Sydney puzzled. "Why Moscow?"  
  
"Mujari had dealings with Russian intelligence going back more than thirty years. My suspicion is that Derevko wanted to use Mujari's connections to reacquaint herself with those within Moscow who could help her."  
  
"But Mom was Russian intelligence," Sydney still did not fully understand. "Why would she need Mujari?"  
  
"Mujari had a direct inroad to those within the intelligence community who were willing, much like your mother, to compromise ethics to get things done," Jack sighed, his distaste for Derevko's dealings evident in his eyes. "When she went rogue, became known as "The Man", many of those channels were cut off to her. There was too high a price to be paid for assisting Irina Derevko."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"And now things are different," Jack nodded. "It doesn't take long for information to circulate. Irina Derevko went into hiding, her organization was fractured. If Mujari were to go to his contacts with Irina along for the ride, they would be much more willing to help now. They'd want to be a part of Derevko's return, hoping to tag along when she regained control of her 'empire'."   
  
Sydney released her father's hand and rolled onto her back once more, lost in thought. Her eyes narrowed as she turned this information over in her mind, putting pieces into place one by one.  
  
"Mujari's dead," Sydney told her father what he knew too well; the bullet in Mujari's brain had been fired from his gun.  
  
Jack shifted in the chair, the memory fresh in his mind. "It seems unreasonable, but I think your mother will try to use that to her benefit."  
  
"I don't understand how she got away," Sydney shook her head. "I saw her get shot, I witnessed her go down. It wasn't a flesh wound, Dad. She took a solid hit." She met her father's eyes and immediately read his thoughts. "I know, I know," She relented. "It would take a lot more to keep her down."  
  
"Somewhere between you diving into that shaft and me coming upon the scene, she escaped," Jack muttered in consternation. "But it won't happen again, if I can help it."  
  
Father and daughter sat in silence for a few moments, each one thinking dark thoughts. Sydney finally rolled back onto her side, facing her father, tucking her hands beneath her head.  
  
"Make her tell you about Madagascar," Sydney said, reminding her father of the conversation she and Irina had shared in the kitchen storeroom in Nepal. "I have a feeling it has a lot to do with what's going on right now."  
  
Before Jack could answer, the door to the exam room opened fully and Dr. Wick stood in the doorway, a smile on his face that belied the serious set of his eyes.  
  
"Jack, I'm glad you're here," He said, coming to the bedside. "I have some test results that I'm sure you'll both want to hear."  
  
Sydney pushed herself up to a sitting position, rearranging the thin bed sheet over her bare legs. She and Jack watched expectantly as Dr. Wick reviewed the medical chart in his hands before he began to speak.  
  
"The lab analysis came back, and I was right about the drug we found in your blood," Dr. Wick paused, thinking of the best way to explain things. "It's a reproductive supplement called Ovathalcyline. It's designed to stimulate the ovaries to produce multiple eggs, at which point the eggs are harvested for fertilization-"  
  
"Wait, wait, wait," Sydney held up both hands, her mind screaming for clarification. "This is a drug for fertility? Like in-vitro procedures?"  
  
Dr. Wick looked slowly from Sydney's stricken face to that of her father. Jack's eyes were dark, his face a mask for emotion he was struggling to hide.  
  
"Yes," Dr. Wick answered slowly. "The thing about it, though, is that it's no longer used much in this part of the world, due to the side effects, one of which we believe led to the previously unexplained scar on your abdomen."  
  
"Where is it used?" Jack inquired quietly, looking up at the doctor's face. He felt himself unable to meet Sydney's eyes.  
  
"Some of the more underdeveloped regions in and around Asia and Africa," Dr. Wick replied.  
  
"Madagascar," Sydney said, her voice barely audible. It was then that she and Jack locked gazes, both of them thinking the same thing. Sydney finally tore her eyes away as another question nagged at her mind. "What was the side effect?"  
  
"The gynecologist, Dr. Malloy, believes there is some scar tissue on your right ovary," Dr. Wick again consulted the medical chart. "It is most likely the result of surgery performed to remove a benign tumor that would have formed as a result of the drug."  
  
As if in a vacuum, Sydney felt all of the air suddenly sucked from her lungs. She struggled against a wave of panic that threatened to crush her, her mouth agape as fresh tears spilled over her cheeks. Instinctively, Jack reached for her hand and held on tight.  
  
Clearly unsettled, Dr. Wick cleared his throat. "In my opinion, Ms. Bristow, this tumor has no bearing on the workings of your reproductive organs. In fact, the gynecologist saw no reason for an exploratory surgery, which was initially suggested-"  
  
"That's enough," Jack barked suddenly, sensing that his daughter could take no more. "We appreciate your hard work here, Sam, but I think Sydney needs some rest now. If there are further tests needed, she can return tomorrow."  
  
"Of course," Dr. Wick was quick to agree. "I'll just attend to the paperwork and come back for your signature." With a cursory nod, Dr. Wick turned and was gone, closing the door as he exited the room.  
  
"Dad," Sydney could barely speak, the word a sound that left her throat with much effort.  
  
Jack didn't have words to comfort his daughter. He simply leaned in and allowed her to crumple against him, sliding his arms around her back as she buried her face in his shoulder. After a few minutes of tear shed, Sydney sat back, her eyes red and puffy.  
  
Jack cleared his throat. "Sydney, if you don't want me to go to Moscow-"  
  
"Get her," Sydney whispered hoarsely. "Get her and bring her back so I can understand what the hell is going on."  
  
After she had signed the required paperwork, Sydney had been asked, yet again, to wait. Dr. Wick was planning to write her a prescription to help her relax; it was Jack's idea, and even though Sydney didn't want it, she knew better than to argue.  
  
After Jack had gone to make preparations for his trip to Moscow, Sydney redressed and then sat alone in the exam room, solemnly picking the remnants of polish from her fingernails.  
  
Nearly a half hour had passed when Sydney looked up at the clock on the wall and sighed heavily. The longer she waited, the easier it became to unlock the compartment in her head where she had stored the day's startling events. She didn't want to revisit them, especially not now when the memory was so painfully fresh. Sydney wanted a hot shower and a soft bed. It had been an unbelievably long 24 hours.  
  
Glancing down at her lap, Sydney frowned at a dark stain on the right knee of her blue jeans. She winced when she touched it, the rough denim against her damaged skin. She'd forgotten about the cut on her knee; the loose bandage she had applied on the way back from Nepal must have come loose as she'd changed her clothes.  
  
Sydney was busy rolling up the leg of her jeans as the door opened, quiet footsteps on the polished tile floor.  
  
"Dr. Wick, I forgot to ask you to take a look at-" Glancing up, Sydney stopped abruptly as her eyes fell upon the concerned face of Michael Vaughn. "Hi," She said, startled.  
  
"Hi," Vaughn slid his hands in his pockets after gently pushing the door closed. He caught sight of Sydney's injured knee. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothing," Sydney answered with a dismissive shake of her head as she quickly unrolled her pant leg. She pretended to occupy herself with retying her shoelace. Anything to not have to look into his eyes. "If you're here about the mission, I'm sorry to say it was a huge failure."  
  
"I know, I ran into your father in the hallway," Vaughn replied, motioning over his shoulder toward the corridor. "I hear he's going to Moscow," He added conversationally.  
  
"Yeah, he is," Sydney finally raised her eyes, meeting Vaughn's for a moment before the sound of thunder outside gave her a reason to shift her gaze to the frosted glass window. "I'd be going too if it weren't for-" She stopped herself short of revealing too much, things she didn't want Vaughn to know for reasons too deep to even be measured.  
  
Vaughn sensed Sydney's discomfort and was silent for a moment, searching for something to say. His eyes danced around the room, finally coming back to rest on Sydney's face, an image that warmed him someplace within. No matter what happened between them, hers would still and always be the most beautiful face he had ever seen.  
  
"Vaughn."  
  
Vaughn snapped to, suddenly aware that her eyes were meeting his own. "What?"  
  
"Why are you here?" Sydney didn't feel the need to ask the question delicately. She studied Vaughn's face as he searched for a reply and could see him struggling for an answer. "Please," She said. "The truth."  
  
Vaughn sighed, hanging his head for a moment. She was right, of course. She was too intelligent to be fooled into thinking his interest went no further than the botched operation in Nepal.  
  
"Will told me you were down here," Vaughn finally spoke, slowly raising his eyes. "He knew I'd be concerned about you because-" He stopped, watching as Sydney's eyes widened.  
  
"Will told you what?" She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. She suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed.  
  
Vaughn cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "He told me about the drug they found, and how you were going through all these tests."  
  
Sydney sucked in her bottom lip, biting back tears. She knew Will's intentions had been good, but she couldn't help feeling betrayed. The feeling ebbed and fed into Sydney's growing anger, which she directed wholly at the man standing before her.  
  
Sliding off the gurney, Sydney took a few steps toward Vaughn, stopping just beyond arm's length. She narrowed her eyes, her jaw set.  
  
"And what? You thought you'd come down here and be strong for me? Console me?" Her voice was harsh, venom on her tongue. "Aren't you the one who said that our relationship was now completely professional? Strictly business?"  
  
"Syd-"  
  
"No, Vaughn, you can't just change the rules like this. Make up your mind. Professional or personal - not both, and certainly not just when it's convenient for you!" Sydney blinked hard, a few rogue tears hot on her cheeks.  
  
Vaughn looked away from her, gathering his thoughts, keeping his anger in check.  
  
"I can't just turn it off, Sydney," He said finally, his voice low. "No matter where we are in our lives, I will always be concerned about your well being."  
  
"How noble of you," Sydney spat. She turned her back on him, angry with herself for letting him see her tears. She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffing loudly.  
  
"Dammit, Syd, do you think this is easy for me?" Vaughn suddenly erupted, his temper flaring. "I thought you were dead. Just walking around with that knowledge devastated me. I had just started to put the pieces back together, to get the strength to make a life for myself after being utterly- "  
  
Vaughn abruptly halted, his eyes meeting Sydney's as she turned to face him, hanging on each word he spoke. It was clear to him in that moment that he could not have conversations like this, could not confess these things to the one woman who was dangerous to touch. Vaughn had a wife and a baby on the way; personal, emotional ties to Sydney Bristow were out of the question.  
  
He had worked too hard to untangle the memories of her from his heart.  
  
"Utterly what?" Sydney prompted, her voice husky, tears balancing on edge of her dark eyes.  
  
Vaughn pressed his lips into a thin line, willing himself silent. "Nothing," He finally answered, shaking his head. With renewed resolve, he drew himself up, taking a deep breath. "You're right. I have to make up my mind, and it's best if we keep things professional."   
  
Sydney drew in a sharp breath, a wound reopening within her. She sniffed, nodding slowly as she averted her eyes. "Right," She agreed, although her heart was nowhere close to being in it.  
  
As soon as she turned away from him again, Vaughn squeezed his eyes shut, pushing back the ocean of regret swelling behind his strong façade. He knew his words had hurt her; he recognized the pained look in her wide eyes. He wished desperately to say something, anything to make it better, but he knew there were no words. He had made his decision, and it had to stand. It was for their own good.  
  
"Sydney, regarding your mother, if there's any information I can help you find, just let me know. I still have most of those files I created when I was independently investigating her, and-"  
  
"Thanks," Sydney turned, smiling weakly as she slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "That might be-"  
  
Sydney was interrupted as Vaughn's cell phone chirped loudly. He smiled apologetically and retrieved it from the inside pocket of his dark blue suit coat.  
  
"Hello? Oh, Alice, hi," Vaughn cast a furtive glance in Sydney's direction and turned his back to her, lowering his voice. "I can't talk now. No, it's okay. No, really, Alice - it's fine. Can I call you back? I'm kinda in the middle of something. No, nothing hugely important, just a work thing. Yes, I promise. Me, too. Yes. Okay. Bye."  
  
Returning the phone to his pocket, Vaughn sighed and turned back around, stopping short when he found himself face to face with an empty room.  
  
******  
  
A/N: Whew - two chapters in one week! Must be some kind of miracle! Thanks to all for the warm reviews. I appreciate it more than you know - and probably more than is healthy. Keep 'em coming. Please. 


	8. All's Fair in Love and War

Chapter Eight: All's Fair in Love and War  
  
Michael Vaughn was not the kind of man to commit adultery.  
  
Sydney knew this, and attempted to keep the thought from her mind. It was difficult, however, in the early hours when she woke, her mind awash with images from her dreams. In them, she relived old memories and created new ones, the two of them happy and living life the way she somehow had always believed they would.  
  
But opening her eyes to the harsh reality of daylight always snapped her back, reminded her with a heavy hand that in the world in which she lived, visions of a happy future were stepping stones to disappointment. She could name two times, at least, when those visions had led her to ruin: Danny and Noah. Sydney shuddered to think that she now had to add Vaughn's name to that heartbreaking list.  
  
Rolling over beneath the bed sheets to look at the digital clock, Sydney noticed beside it the open spiral bound notebook, ballpoint pen idle on its clean, blue-lined page. She smiled to herself, wondering if Dr. Barnett would have any use for the dreams from which she had just awakened; the idea of writing them down brought color to her cheeks.  
  
With a sigh, Sydney extracted herself from the bed covers and stood, stifling a yawn. Clearing her mind, she concentrated on getting ready for the day, grateful it was Saturday and she didn't need to think consciously about work. She grabbed her robe from the end of the bed and headed for the bathroom to take a shower.  
  
It had been four days since the botched operation in Nepal that Jack Bristow was still trying to avenge. He had been in Moscow for two days, then moved on to Italy as Irina Derevko trekked across Europe, destination and intent unknown. Jack checked in every few hours and agents kept Sydney posted, but she tried not to get her hopes up.  
  
Four days had also passed since Sydney's heated exchange with Vaughn in medical services. After walking out on him, she'd gotten a call from Dr. Barnett asking her to come in each day that week to work through recent events. Sydney had kept those appointments, returning to the ops center each morning with nothing more to do than see the psychologist and track her father's progress.  
  
For the sake of her sanity, Sydney avoided contact with Vaughn. Thus far they had proven to be as compatible as oil and water, and she didn't need the further aggravation. But still, there were times as she walked across the ops center that Sydney could feel him watching her. Twice she had caught him, turning quickly to see his eyes darting away from her, his brow furrowing as he attempted to appear busy. Publicly, Sydney pretended not to notice. Privately, she smiled.  
  
When Sydney told her she hadn't waited around for the sleeping pill prescription, Dr. Barnett had insisted she take it. At the time, Sydney had relented, but since that day she hadn't swallowed a single dose. She knew the medication would put her into a deep sleep, the kind that robbed her of the ability to remember her dreams. Sydney wasn't willing to sacrifice that; her dreams were the one place where she could be with Vaughn, the only time when he belonged solely to her.  
  
After her shower, Sydney dressed quickly, stepping into a pair of comfortable jeans. She finished with an oatmeal colored sweater and slipped on her athletic shoes before deftly pulling her hair into a casual ponytail. Entering the living room, she was surprised to find it empty. Will and Pip were gone, most likely on a tour of the neighborhood. Sydney went into the kitchen to make herself breakfast.  
  
Twenty minutes later, as Sydney was cutting into an apple, the front door opened and Pip bounded into the apartment. Will followed a few steps behind.  
  
"Good morning," Sydney smiled at him as he entered the kitchen, the dog excitedly circling his legs. Sydney cored the apple and offered Will half. "Good walk?"  
  
"Thanks," Will accepted the fruit and took a bite, pausing to rub Pip's ears. "Yeah. We hit all the usual spots, you know. The park, the bus stop."  
  
Sydney grinned, leaning back against the kitchen counter as she bit into her half of the apple. "You're up early," She mused, watching as the dog loped into the living room and plopped down on the rug.  
  
Will nodded and rolled his eyes. "I gotta take the car in for a recall fix," He glanced at his watch. "In fact, I need to leave now if I'm gonna make the appointment."  
  
"Can I go, too?"  
  
Will swallowed his last bite of apple and looked up at her strangely. "You want to go hang out with me at the Ford dealer?"  
  
"Well, this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm thinking it might be time for me to consider buying a car," Sydney rinsed her hands in the sink and reached for the kitchen towel. "I can't have you driving me around forever."  
  
"Ha," Will chuckled. "You like being chauffeured, admit it." Sydney just smiled, and Will shrugged as he pulled his keys from his pocket. "It's cool with me. Are you ready?"  
  
Sydney nodded. "Let's go."  
  
An hour or so later, after perusing the car lot for a while, Sydney and Will sat in the service department waiting room flipping through old magazines. Sydney glanced up at the window and caught sight of a familiar storefront sign across the street. She poked Will's arm with her elbow.  
  
"Hey," She said when he met her eyes. "There's a Starbucks across the street, and I could really go for a latte. Do you want anything?"  
  
"Are you buyin'?"  
  
Sydney sighed, jokingly rolling her eyes. "Is that a tall café mocha?"  
  
"Yes, with extra foam," Will called to her as she got up and walked toward the door. "And chocolate sprinkles!"  
  
Sydney chuckled to herself as she made her way across the street, mindful of the Saturday morning traffic. Upon entering the shop, she inhaled deeply, the warming aroma of fresh coffee bringing a smile to her face. There was a short line, and Sydney waited patiently, casually people watching until it was her turn to order.  
  
Moments later, as Sydney carried the steaming beverages to the condiment station to grab a couple of napkins and add Will's sprinkles, she heard a voice behind her say a familiar name.  
  
"Rita."  
  
Sydney busied herself with the coffee, carefully pulling the lid from Will's café mocha. It didn't even dawn on her that the name was directed at her until she felt someone's hand on her arm.  
  
"Rita, hi."  
  
Sydney turned abruptly to find herself face to face with Alice. Vaughn's Alice.  
  
"Oh my gosh," Sydney said out of genuine surprise. "Hi."  
  
"I didn't startle you, I hope," Alice smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean to."  
  
"No, no," Sydney shook her head a little too vigorously. "I was just concentrating-" She looked down at the beverages, realizing how silly she sounded. "-on the coffee."  
  
"Oh," Alice glanced from the cups to Sydney's face. "I saw you over here and I thought, what are the odds of us running into each other again, for the second weekend in a row?"  
  
"Yeah," Sydney smiled wanly. "What are the odds?"  
  
"Anyway," Alice forged ahead. "I'm glad I did. I've been after Michael to get me your phone number, but you know how it is," She trailed off, chuckling.  
  
*No, I don't know how it is,* Sydney said to herself. *And that's largely because of you.*  
  
"Right," Sydney turned her eyes back to the coffee, grabbing the shaker can of chocolate sprinkles and liberally coating Will's extra foam. She dreaded knowing the reason behind Alice's desire for her number; surely she wasn't going to call up to chat. Sydney honestly couldn't imagine a more awkward phone conversation.  
  
"Anyway, I wanted to get a hold of you so I could find out if you and your friend would like to have dinner with us," Alice continued. "I know it's short notice, but Michael and I would love it if you could come tomorrow night."  
  
Sydney was momentarily taken aback. "Wow, Alice, that's really sweet of you," She forced herself to focus, to smile politely. She thought of a million reasons to decline, but somehow, she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Tomorrow night sounds wonderful. I'll have to check with Will, but I'm sure it'll be fine."  
  
Alice was noticeably relieved. She smiled again. "Oh, great," She sighed. "I know Michael will be pleased."  
  
*I bet he will.*  
  
"Does six o'clock sound okay? I'll have Michael get in touch with you with the directions," Alice casually glanced at her watch as Sydney nodded in agreement. Alice frowned. "I apologize, but I've got to run." As she turned to go, she grasped Sydney's arm. "I'm so glad I ran into you!"  
  
"Me, too," Sydney found herself saying before immediately wondering why.  
  
"Oh, one more thing," Alice turned back. "Are either of you vegetarians?" Sydney shook her head, and Alice was relieved once again. "Great! Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Bye!"  
  
"Bye," Sydney echoed hollowly, watching as Alice wove her way back through the crowd of patrons and exited the shop.  
  
"I still can't believe we're doing this," Will shook his head, smiling grimly as he concentrated on the city streets before him. "I can't believe you said yes."  
  
"Pull into that market, please," Sydney ignored his comments, pointing toward a small corner grocery store one block ahead. "I think it would be rude to show up empty handed."  
  
Will said nothing more as he snapped on the turn signal and eased into a parking spot. After Sydney had exited the car, he sat back in his seat, sighing. He hoped desperately that he wasn't moments away from the longest evening of his life.  
  
A few minutes later, Sydney was back in the car with a moderately priced bottle of California merlot. After Will had expertly guided the car back into traffic, Sydney smiled at him and held forth the purchase for his approval.  
  
"Look, Will, here's something you may not be familiar with," Sydney teased, pulling the wine bottle from the brown paper sack. "It's wine - with a cork."  
  
"Ha ha," Will grimaced. He was silent for a moment until a thought struck him. "Hey, Syd," He looked sideways at her. "I can't help but notice that you've chosen wine as the hostess gift."  
  
"Yes. And?"  
  
"The hostess is pregnant."  
  
"I know," Sydney cradled the bottle in her lap, looking out the passenger window at the pedestrians on the sidewalks that they drove past.  
  
Will sighed, making a left turn onto a residential street. He pulled over to the curb and put the car into park, allowing it to idle as he swiveled in his seat.  
  
"Syd," He started.  
  
"Why did you stop? According to Vaughn's directions, we have at least another six blocks-"  
  
"Screw the directions," Will barked, forcefully grabbing Sydney's attention. She stared at him with wide eyes.  
  
"Will-"  
  
"Sydney," He spoke over the top of her, laying his hand on her arm. "I'm not sure you're ready for this."  
  
"Ready for what?"  
  
"Dinner with Vaughn and his wife," Will made no attempt to sugar coat the truth.  
  
Sydney shrugged, avoiding Will's eyes. "Dr. Barnett said I need to confront this, so - I'm confronting it."  
  
"Again, as I said last week, I think this is a little more confrontation than she had in mind," Will pointed out. "I mean, c'mon, Syd - the wine? That's pretty passive aggressive, don't you think? That's not generally your style."  
  
"My style?" Sydney repeated, making a face. "I don't have a style, Will. Especially not when it comes to this, something I haven't ever had the pleasure of encountering before."  
  
"That's my point," Will insisted. "I don't think you know how to deal with this. I'm worried it might be too soon, with everything else-"  
  
"Will."  
  
"We can just call them and tell them I got sick at the last minute or something-"  
  
"Will!" Sydney grabbed his arm. "Stop it."  
  
"Syd," Will sighed, concern in his blue eyes. "I'm just trying to help you."  
  
"I don't need you to do that," Sydney assured him, reaching for his hand. He gave it to her, allowing her fingers to slip around his own. "Will, I'm a big girl. I've been taking care of myself for most of my life. Please believe me when I say I can handle this," She squeezed his hand, her eyes imploring. "I need to handle this."  
  
Will watched her carefully before nodding. Quietly, he said, "Okay," as he turned back to the steering wheel and eased the car into the street.   
  
Once they'd gotten turned back around and on their way, both Will and Sydney were silent, contemplative as they viewed the world through their respective windows.  
  
Sydney pointed out where to turn next and then sighed, feeling the jagged edges of their still-open discussion.  
  
"Besides," She finally said after directing Will down a sleepy residential street. "As far as Alice is concerned, she doesn't know that I know."  
  
Will was quick to reply. "That doesn't matter. You still know," He reasoned. "And Vaughn knows that you know-" Will's voice trailed off as the light bulb within his mind instantly came on. Pulling into a parking space in front of Vaughn and Alice's apartment building, he turned off the car and met Sydney's eyes. "Oh, I get it. This isn't about Alice at all. It's about Vaughn."  
  
Sydney averted her eyes, pulling the wine from its sack before crumpling the paper bag into a tight ball. She squeezed it in her fist, watching the veins on the back of her hand.  
  
Will couldn't stand her silence. He yanked the keys from the ignition and sat back heavily in his seat.  
  
"Syd, you know I love you, but," He shook his head. "It's a crappy thing to hold against him, you know. Getting on with his life when he thought you were dead. Someday you're going to have to forgive him for that."  
  
Sydney frowned, the painful truth registering in her eyes. "As soon as he forgives me for making him do it."  
  
"Rita, hi! Please come in," Alice smiled brightly and looked beautiful in a pale blue dress as she met Sydney and Will at the front door. Stepping aside, she allowed them to pass. "I'm so glad you both could make it."  
  
"Thanks again for inviting us," Sydney took a few steps into the living room and stopped, her eyes scanning the room. She quickly introduced Will to Alice before turning her attention back to the apartment, her mind taking snapshots of the space Vaughn and Alice shared.  
  
"Michael's out on the patio, grilling the chicken," Alice explained, motioning towards the sliding glass doors in the dining room. The table was set beautifully with china plates and sterling silver, crystal wine goblets and water glasses shimmering beneath the small, overhead chandelier.  
  
Sydney only partially listened as Alice prattled on to Will about the dinner menu and the attraction men have to cooking meat over an open flame. She stood apart from them, listening to the soft music that played on the stereo, her gaze gliding over the floral patterned couch and arm chair, the deep green recliner, the medium oak coffee and side tables. Laying eyes upon the tall corner bookcase, she was drawn to it, coming to stand just inches away from a framed photograph on one of the shelves.  
  
It was obviously a wedding photo, taken in Las Vegas. Alice and Vaughn were embracing, her in a white slip dress and he in a deep blue suit. They were smiling. They looked happy. Sydney's heart broke in two.  
  
"Hello, Rita," Vaughn's voice sliced through her reverie. She turned to him, startled, blinking away the moisture in her eyes.  
  
"Hi," Sydney managed before walking past him to where Alice and Will stood at the open patio door, Alice pointing to the city skyline visible above a berm of trees bordering the apartment complex.  
  
"It's not like you can see the Hollywood sign or anything, but at least it's a view," She was saying, laughing good-naturedly. She looked up as Sydney approached, the bottle of wine in her outstretched hand.  
  
"I should've given this to you when we came in, I'm sorry," Sydney forced a smile. "I hope red is okay."  
  
Alice took the bottle and studied the label, the smile never leaving her lips. "We love merlot. Thanks so much, Rita," She leaned in and gave Sydney a short hug, squeezing her tightly. Sydney half-heartedly squeezed back, the smell of Alice's understated floral perfume bringing back a memory Sydney couldn't quite grasp.  
  
"The chicken will be ready in about ten minutes," Vaughn announced, brushing past them as he stepped out onto the patio. Sydney watched him lift the lid of the large gas grill, the fragrant smoke wafting past the open door.  
  
"Will, can I get you a beer?" Alice called over her shoulder, carrying the wine into the kitchen.  
  
Will glanced at Sydney, shrugging discreetly. "She's not so bad," He whispered, just before turning to follow Alice. If it was meant to be an encouragement, it failed miserably. Sydney did not want to be won over.  
  
Conversation continued amiably, the four of them gathering on the patio for talk about the weather and, briefly, politics before Vaughn pronounced the chicken done.  
  
Dinner was quickly put out on the table, the chicken nicely accompanied by steamed asparagus, baked potatoes, a plate of fresh fruit and a neatly tossed spinach salad. As the meal began, talk drifted from friends to co- workers and eventually to family, where Sydney soon found herself the uncomfortable center of attention.  
  
"So, Rita," Alice began, cutting into her baked potato. "What do your parents do?"  
  
Will and Vaughn both stopped abruptly, knives and forks posed above their plates.  
  
Sydney glanced at them briefly before turning her attention to Alice. "My father sells airplane parts," She smiled sweetly. "And my mother is dead."  
  
As soon as the words left Sydney's mouth, Will was struck with a coughing fit. Sydney looked at him with alarm as Vaughn hurried to refill his water glass.  
  
"Will, are you all right?" Alice worried, partially rising from her chair.  
  
Will gulped down water and nodded, pulling himself together. "I'm fine, Alice, really," He jabbed Sydney's shin with his foot. She winced and he smiled. "I'm okay, thanks."  
  
As Will grabbed his water glass again for another long gulp, Alice heavily set her hands on the table top, looking in Sydney's direction.  
  
"Rita, I'm sorry, I forgot to bring out the wine you brought," She started to get up, but Sydney held out her hands as she herself got to her feet, grateful for the distraction.  
  
Throughout the meal, Vaughn and Alice had been sitting agonizingly close, their elbows bumping occasionally, small smiles exchanged each time. There were even moments when Vaughn had rested a hand on Alice's thigh, his fingers grasping her own. It was all at once too much to take, and Sydney needed a moment away.  
  
"It's okay, Alice. If you'll direct me to your corkscrew, I'll be happy to get it."  
  
Sydney easily located the necessary items in the small, tidy kitchen and returned to the table after leaning against the fridge, eyes closed and breathing deeply. In moments she had pulled the cork from the green glass bottle and reached across the table for Alice's wine goblet.  
  
Will and Vaughn both watched as Sydney began to tip the bottle.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Alice suddenly jumped in, extending her hand to cover the rim of the glass. "None for me, thank you."  
  
Sydney returned the glass to its place, seemingly nonplussed. She turned to Vaughn, holding the wine aloft. "Michael?"  
  
Vaughn met Sydney's eyes, a clear and present warning wordlessly communicated. Without a sound, he extended the glass to Sydney and allowed her pour while he turned and smiled at his wife.  
  
"Sweetheart," He said, the word a tiny arrow in Sydney's soul. "Why don't you share with Rita and Will the reason why you're not having wine tonight?"  
  
Alice smiled at Vaughn and waited until Sydney had returned to her seat before she reached over and grasped both of Vaughn's hands in her own.  
  
"Michael and I are going to have a baby," Alice beamed, her eyes shining as they filled with tears.  
  
Will was quick to offer his best wishes. He raised his wine goblet in toast, and Sydney joined in, a pained smile on her lips. She glanced up from her plate just in time to catch Vaughn's eyes on her face, his brow furrowed, his expression dark. It melted into a smile, however, as soon as Alice leaned in to him and planted a kiss on his dimpled cheek.  
  
"Excuse me," Sydney muttered, slipping from her chair. "Where's the-"  
  
"First door on the left," Vaughn quickly supplied, pointing toward the hallway. His eyes never left her as she quickly exited the room.  
  
After dinner and following a heavenly dessert of homemade white chocolate cheesecake (was there anything that Alice could not do?!), Sydney was helping Alice clear the table when the telephone rang. Vaughn was in the living room showing Will a photo album full of pictures he'd taken on a recent vacation to France and called out to Alice that her mother was on the line.  
  
Alice excused herself, leaving Sydney alone in the kitchen. She started to run water in the sink to wash the dishes and was just adding the liquid detergent when a voice sounded behind her.  
  
"I'll wash if you'll dry."  
  
Sydney didn't look up as she set an armload of plates in the soapy water. "You'd better take off your wedding band first. It'd be a shame if it slipped off your finger and went down the drain."  
  
"I'm going to ignore your sarcasm," Vaughn came to Sydney's side, rolling up the sleeves of his cornflower blue button down shirt. Just for safety's sake, however, he pulled the ring from his finger and dropped it into the pocket of his khakis.  
  
Vaughn directed Sydney to the dish towel and she grabbed it, slinging it over her shoulder as she waited for Vaughn to finish washing the first couple of dishes.  
  
"I wish she weren't so nice," Sydney admitted, watching as Vaughn rinsed a plate and set it in the drying rack. Upon hearing this, he paused, letting the sentence hang in the air before he pulled another plate from the sudsy water and gave it a good scrub with the brush in his left hand.  
  
"I don't know what to say to that," He replied quietly, concentrating much too hard on the pile of plates in the sink.  
  
"What can you say? You don't need to say anything," Sydney grabbed the plate from the drying rack and began to wipe it down with the deep yellow dishtowel. "She's sweet, she's nice, she's decent. What can be said about that? She's lovely."  
  
"I'm sure she's thinking the exact same thing about you," Vaughn delivered this line with a lack of conviction that made Sydney smile.  
  
"Nice, but you got your best shot in at dinner, when you called her 'sweetheart' while I was pouring your wine," Sydney set the dry plate on the countertop and reached for another wet one.  
  
Vaughn chuckled ruefully. "And you got yours in by bringing the wine," He said. "Don't think that went by unnoticed."  
  
"I knew it wouldn't."  
  
The kitchen was momentarily silent, the sound of the humming refrigerator a soothing backdrop to the splashing and dish scrubbing going on at the sink. Sydney and Vaughn didn't look at each other as they each performed their task, working in sync, working well together as they always had.  
  
"Do you ever not play games?" Vaughn asked suddenly, an inexplicably hard edge to his voice.  
  
Sydney carefully set down a dry dish and looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"  
  
"The wine, the comment about your mother delivered so eloquently with a smile," Vaughn turned to her, wrist deep in detergent bubbles. He paused when he heard voices in the next room, continuing only after the sound of laughter assured him Alice and Will were deep into a conversation of their own. "Not everything is a competition, Sydney. This is real life, not a game."  
  
"Don't preach to me about real life," Sydney hissed, anger darkening her eyes. "I've had more than my share of it, especially recently. And if anyone's got a game going here, it's you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. The perfect apartment, the perfect china, the perfect meal, the perfect wife," The end of the sentence slid off her tongue as if it were a dirty word. Sydney reached over to grab a clean dish as Vaughn lifted it from the water. Her voice thick with disdain, she added, "Let me know, Vaughn, if you ever get tired of playing house."  
  
The wet dish did not offer Sydney a firm grip and it slipped from her grasp, dropping with a splash back into the soapy water. Both reaching for it at once, their fingers bumped beneath the sudsy surface. As she started to grope for the stray plate, Vaughn suddenly grabbed Sydney's hand and held on tight. Sydney thought of pulling free but stopped when she allowed herself to look up into his eyes.  
  
"Hey, Michael, Will was just reminding me of a when I first met him," Alice's voice was growing louder as she neared the kitchen doorway. "Remember how I told you I thought he looked familiar? Well, it turns out-" Alice stopped, a strange charge in the air catching her attention. Before she could say another word, Will appeared behind her, Sydney's chirping cell phone in his hand.  
  
"Rita," He said softly, feeling as though he was interrupting something. What is was, he wasn't sure. "Your phone."  
  
Sydney didn't look away from Vaughn's eyes, her fingers slowly slipping from beneath his grasp. Her eyes filling, her chin quivering, she swallowed hard around the lump in her throat.  
  
"Congratulations, Michael," She murmured, a meaningful look passing between them just before she turned away. After wiping her hand on the dishtowel, Sydney brushed past Alice, avoiding her eyes, and took the phone from Will's outstretched hand.  
  
Answering curtly, Sydney was greeted by the voice of her father. "Sydney," He said. "We got her."  
  
******  
  
A/N: Here I am again, begging for your opinion. Please let me know what you think - good or bad - my muse is fueled by your honest reviews. 


	9. From Darkness into Light

Chapter Nine: From Darkness into Light

Irina Derevko opened her eyes and immediately sensed that she was not alone.

She remained still as she allowed herself to fully awaken, her eyes blinking hard at the dark stone wall she faced. Her body was stiff, the thin mattress offering no support. She reasoned to herself that at least she had a mattress; Jack had been good enough to see that she didn't have to settle for the hard metal slab alone.

Slowly, conscious of her bandaged left bicep, Irina rose up from the bed. She swiveled on the mattress, taking her time, sliding her legs over the edge until her feet hit the cold marble floor. Only then did she turn her head and see her daughter sitting quietly at the metal desk in the corner of the cell.

Sydney Bristow watched as her mother reached down to pull on her lace-less white canvas tennis shoes. The footwear was a stark contrast to her black tank top and cargo pants, the standard issue uniform for CIA detainees.  

Sydney cleared her throat and waited until she had Irina's full attention. The older woman folded her hands in her lap, ready to receive whatever Sydney had to say.

"I can't save you this time," Sydney began, her voice business-like, void of all warmth. "Every deal or arrangement you made with the U.S. government was broken two years ago when you escaped our custody. They want to proceed with your execution."

Irina allowed herself a tiny smile. "This is how you greet your mother?"

Sydney narrowed her eyes. "What do you want, Mom? Hugs and kisses?"

Irina said nothing as the smile left her face. Sydney continued.

"There is one thing I can do," She said, crossing her legs, her tone softer but not without authority. "In Nepal you asked me for more time. I can get that for you, but only if you cooperate fully with our investigation. That means you must answer all of my questions and give us any and all information that will lead to the capture of Arvin Sloane. These are the terms, and they are not open to discussion. If you refuse, Kendall will ship you out to a federal detention facility and your execution will be carried out by end of business tomorrow."

Irina searched her daughter's face, quickly gauging the seriousness of her words.

"And I thought you and I had come a long way in our relationship," She mused, the smile returning.

Sydney wasn't pulling any punches. "That remains to be seen, depending on what you tell me," She paused, her eyes locking on her mother's. "Do you agree to the terms?"

Knowing she had no choice, Irina slowly nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Sydney turned to the wall of bulletproof glass and nodded to the armed guard standing at the door. "You can go." One he had walked away, Sydney returned her attention to her mother. "I believe that the only reason I'm still alive and here in L.A. is because of you. Am I right?"

Irina drew in a deep breath, looking down at her hands. It was clear she wasn't going to be able to avoid this conversation. Resigning herself to it, she asked, "Where shall I begin?"

"I read your statement," Sydney said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need background information," Her voice dropped slightly, a shadow crossing her face. "Begin with me."

Irina watched her daughter's eyes, conscious of the pain in them. Getting to her feet, Irina crossed the cell to the sink in the opposite corner and began to run cool water in the basin. Sydney was patient, watching her mother's back as she bent over the sink and splashed her cheeks.

After patting her skin dry, Irina turned and leaned back against the sink, her arms crossed over her chest. Their eyes met and Irina sighed, her forehead creasing with concern. 

"This won't be easy to hear," Irina said finally, her rich voice tinged with compassion.

"I'm certain of that," Sydney nodded. "But most of my life the past couple of weeks has been full of things that are hard to hear. Trust me, I can take it."

A pensive expression on her face, Irina took a few steps toward her daughter and sank down to the floor, crossing her legs beneath herself. 

"How is Agent Vaughn?" 

Sydney's mouth was a hard line, her jaw set. "About me, Mom. Tell me about me."

"A sore subject, I see?"

"The agreement was that you would answer my questions-"

"All right, all right," Irina held up her hands, sighing resignedly. "Before Sloane abducted you, I had separated from him for a time," She settled in, her eyes narrowed as she began her recollection. "I was aware of his movements throughout L.A. and was keeping tabs on him from time to time. Naturally, it alarmed me when I found out he had kidnapped your father. I had a fear that you would be next. Arvin was obsessed with Rambaldi, obsessed with the prophecy. We discussed it at length, and I knew he was convinced, as I am, that you are the woman in the prophecy."

"I know all this, Mom," Sydney interrupted impatiently. "What I need to know is what happened to me. Where did Sloane take me, what did he do?"

Irina nodded. "I'm getting to that," She explained, pausing briefly to collect her thoughts. "Sloane believed that if he could contain you in some way, he could complete his work with Rambaldi and keep you from fulfilling the prophecy. The night that Sark abducted you, Sloane injected you with a drug that kept you in a semi-conscious state. Each morning you'd get a dose, go through the day like a, like a-"

"A zombie?" Sydney guessed, horrified at the sound of the word.

Irina snapped her fingers. "Yes! Yes, like a zombie," She continued. "And at night, when you'd sleep, your memory would reset. Each day you'd wake up having no recall of the day before. Sloane felt safe with you at his side – no matter what activities he engaged in, he knew you'd not remember any of it."

"Why not just kill me?" Sydney forced herself to speak, her mind overrun with the images her mother supplied. 

Irina met her daughter's gaze, her eyes dark. "I wouldn't let him," She said simply. "He spoke of it once, and I told him I'd personally see to it that he met the same fate," She cleared her throat, moving ahead. "After a while, something started to happen to Arvin. He became completely paranoid and delusional. He went slightly mad."

"So – what – instead of just a little insane, now he's a lot insane?"

Irina suppressed the urge to smile. "Arvin began to believe that Milo Rambaldi was communicating with him."

"What?"

"He called these communications 'visions'. In one particular vision, Rambaldi supposedly told him that no matter what your state of consciousness, you would still fulfill the prophecy and destroy Arvin's work," Irina pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, her expression earnest. "He claimed that Rambaldi instructed him to produce an heir, a child born of Rambaldi's bloodline-" She paused, watching Sydney's face. "And yours."

Out in the ops center, watching on a closed circuit television, Jack Bristow's heart sank.

"What do you mean, of Rambaldi's bloodline?" Sydney uncrossed her legs and sat forward in the chair, her eyes intent on Irina's face. "Rambaldi left no known heirs."

"I know," Irina replied quietly. "But according to Arvin's vision, Rambaldi instructed him to choose a male from a certain family line. Arvin sent me to Italy, to trace those ancestors. At the time, I didn't know precisely why. It wasn't until I met up with him in Madagascar that I found out. At that point, he had started administering you the fertility drug. There wasn't anything I could do."

Sydney struggled for words, her mind racing ahead and circling back, begging answers to questions she wasn't sure she had the strength to ask.

"He wanted to impregnate me? By whom?" Sydney demanded, her shock giving way to disbelief and anger. "Did you find someone? Did you bring someone back from Italy?"

Irina nodded slowly. "I located a young man in Rome. Sark assisted me in transporting him back to Madagascar," She sighed, shaking her head. "I never would have done it if I knew exactly what he was planning-"

"Did he succeed?" Sydney interjected, fearing the answer.

"No," Irina answered quickly. "And it's not what you think. Arvin didn't want to take any chances, didn't want you to resist in any way. It was all done clinically, as an in-vitro procedure. They tried a total of four times, over the course of several months, but it didn't work."

"Didn't work? How?" Sydney clenched her fists, squeezing tightly as fear simmered within her. "I never got pregnant, or the pregnancies didn't last?" She watched her mother's face carefully, a wave of panic rushing up to engulf her. Irina didn't readily answer, averting her eyes, her brow furrowed. Sydney drew in a sharp breath. "Which one was it, Mom? Which one?"

Irina slowly rose to her feet, her face etched with concern as she took a few steps toward her daughter. 

"The pregnancies didn't last," Irina whispered, her hands reaching out as Sydney's face crumpled; huge, salty tears spilled down her cheeks. 

"Oh, my god," She breathed, gulping in air. "Oh, my god." Looking up to see her mother approaching, she drew back, hugging herself tightly. "Don't touch me, Mom. Just – just don't."

Irina sighed and sat down on the metal cot, watching as Sydney struggled to pull herself together. Irina laid her hands in her lap, giving her daughter time before she went on.

"The tumor had already formed, from the drug," Irina explained. "And the doctors told Arvin that they could no more procedures until it was removed. So they went ahead with the operation," She looked down at her hands, clearly frustrated. "Arvin sent me away. He knew that with me around he'd never be able to continue. He threatened to kill you if I didn't go. So, I left. It was stupid of me to give in – with me gone he could have just as easily killed you as kept you alive."

"You went back," Sydney guessed, wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Yes, a few weeks later," Irina nodded. "By this time, Arvin had moved on to Hong Kong. He had heard about experimental fertility procedures there. By then, you had healed from the surgery and he was prepared to start again."

"But you stopped him."

"I did, yes," Irina looked up, her face awash in emotion. "I couldn't let him do it. I wanted the Rambaldi truths as badly as he did, but not at your expense. No longer." She took a deep breath. "I freed the young Italian, who, like you, was being daily medicated. Then I went back for you, and ran into a little trouble. Sark walked in on me, and I had to kill him."

"Sark is dead?" Sydney asked incredulously, her eyes wide.

"I believe so," Irina nodded. "I didn't stop to check his pulse, but-" She shrugged. "I got you out. We escaped through an old underground tunnel system. I left you in a cheap hotel, confident that once the medication wore off completely, you'd find your way back home."

"You went back for Sloane."         

"He was gone," Irina replied, anger in her voice. "And I've been pursuing him ever since that time. When you saw me in Nepal, I was meeting with Mujari to ask for his assistance. He is a long time enemy of Arvin Sloane."

Sydney lifted a hand to her forehead, smoothing back her hair as her mind struggled to wrap itself around all that she had been told. She closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut to quiet the many unanswered questions that raged inside her head. Opening them again, she caught sight of her father standing on the other side of the glass, his hands in his pockets. He was watching her, his face stoic though his eyes were ablaze with concern for his daughter.

"Sydney," Jack said her name softly, causing both women to turn their eyes to his face. 

Sydney nodded slowly and turned back to her mother. "Thank you," She said quietly. "I appreciate you being so cooperative." Rising from her seat, Sydney propelled herself toward the cell door, fighting against the desire to stay and find out so much more.

"Sydney," Irina called, getting to her feet. When her daughter turned around, Irina smiled. "I meant what I said in Nepal. It is good to see you again."

Sydney looked at her for a long time, willing herself to stay in control of her emotions. "You, too," She said quietly, just before she turned and followed her father down the corridor, the metal gates shuddering into place behind them.

Reaching the central area of the ops center, Sydney paused by her work station and turned to face her father. His eyes spoke volumes, and she answered his question before he could ask it.

"I'm okay, Dad," Sydney smiled weakly. "It was tough to hear, but," She halted a moment, shaking her head. "Hearing it is easier than having the actual memories."

Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Speaking of that," He said. "Kendall read the statement we took from your mother when we brought her in last night. He's eager for you to begin the hypnotic regression therapy," Jack's brow furrowed. "I told him I'd let you determine when that should start, and that pacified him for now, however I don't believe he'll stay patient for long."

"That's understandable," Sydney nodded. "It makes sense that the key to Sloane's location may be locked away in my memory. I'm just not sure if I'm ready," She met her father's eyes, the weariness in her face pricking his heart. "Like I said, hearing Mom tell it is far different from reliving the whole experience."

Jack rested a hand comfortingly on Sydney's shoulder. "Take your time," He said soothingly. "Derevko gave us a lot of information that we can work on at this point."

"Dad," Sydney's eyes went hard, her voice steely. "I need to know that everything she said is going to be dissected and studied for evidence leading to Sloane. I need to know that we're doing all we can with that information in order to find him."

"We are," Jack assured her. "We've got the best analysts on it, including Tippin."

Sydney nodded, momentarily reassured. "I want to be in on it," She said determinedly. "When the op is planned, where it'll be. I'm going."

"Sydney-"

"You can't talk me out of this, Dad," Sydney warned him, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's how I'm making it through this – knowing that I can be the one to bring him down."

Before Jack could respond, Kendall shouted out his name from across the room, beckoning to him with the wave of his hand. Jack glanced over and nodded, then turned his attention back to his daughter. He dropped his hand from her shoulder, clearing his throat.

"We'll discuss that when the time comes. For now, take care of yourself. Get some rest," He started to leave, then turned back. "Good work, with your mother. I know that wasn't easy."

Sydney just smiled, watching as her father walked away. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind, compartmentalizing as she always did. There would be time later to deconstruct and try to understand everything her mother had told her. Right now she just wanted to push it aside, to go home and rest after a sleepless night.

After leaving Vaughn's apartment, she and Will had sat up half the night discussing Irina Derevko while waiting for the call that would let her know when it was time for her to report to the ops center. The call had finally come at six a.m., long after Will had fallen asleep on the couch, Pip at his feet.

Sydney had remained awake, nervous energy her only fuel. She'd passed the time doing random activities like folding laundry and alphabetizing Will's CD collection. When she'd finally moved on to one of the packing boxes in the bedroom, one of her cartons that Will had brought over from storage, she'd been knocked for a loop most unexpected. Opening the box to sort through the objects of a life she'd lived what seemed forever ago, she had found her old SD-6 pager. Holding the small black device in her hand had opened her eyes to a truth she knew she could no longer avoid.

Years ago, on the pier, she had tossed a similar beeper into the Pacific Ocean. The conversation she'd had with Vaughn that night came back to her in astounding clarity. One thing he'd said resonated inside her so strongly she felt tears sting her eyes. Vaughn had reminded her that even with all the darkness she saw, all the enemies she battled, all the worst of people she encountered – her one responsibility was not to let the rage, resentment and disgust darken her.  

It was with shame, at four a.m., that Sydney realized she had let herself down.

Crawling up on the bed, clutching the pager in her hand, she cried. She had allowed herself to be mean, to be cruel, to be darkened by memories she couldn't even recall. She had given in to her rage and resentment and treated Vaughn's wife unkindly. And the worst of it was, now that she was at her lowest, at her most depressed, she no longer could just pick up the phone. Things were no longer that simple.

When the call came in at six a.m., Sydney had been asleep for twenty minutes, the beeper still in her hand. Before leaving the apartment, she had tucked it in her handbag as a gentle yet unmistakable reminder. 

"Hey, Syd," Weiss's voice behind her snapped her back to the present. Smiling, she looked up to see Weiss approaching with Vaughn right behind him. The three exchanged greetings before Weiss continued. "Vaughn and I were about to go to lunch – do you want to join us?"

Sydney opened her mouth to speak but paused as she met Vaughn's eyes. He looked uncomfortable, and she immediately registered her regret over the evening before. 

"Weiss, I appreciate the offer, but I really should go home and get some sleep."

"Oh, c'mon," Weiss poked her arm. "It's just lunch. We just wanna go hang out, shoot the breeze." He grinned. "I'm buyin'."

"That's generous of you," Sydney met Vaughn's eyes again, swallowing hard. "But I really need to go. I'll see you later." She smiled kindly and then walked away. 

Watching her go, Weiss shook his head. "I wonder how she always manages to smell so good. It's like spiced vanilla. A little edgy, kinda sweet-"

"Shut up," Vaughn advised, pushing past him to follow Sydney. He caught up with her just as she was nearing the elevator. "Syd," He said, reaching her side. "Wait a minute." 

Sydney and Vaughn stepped aside as the elevator door opened and some agents entered the corridor. Sydney watched them go, then turned to Vaughn with an expectant look.

"What?"

"Are you really going because you're tired, or," He paused, reaching up to rub his forehead, a telltale sign of his apprehension. "Or because of me? Because if you'd like to come to lunch-"

Sydney sighed. "I really am tired," She confessed. "But it is partly because of you."

Vaughn had suspected as much, but he was still taken aback when Sydney said it out loud.

"Vaughn, you made up your mind," She continued. "Last night I wasn't respectful of that, and for that I'm sorry," Sydney managed a weak smile. "I accepted the decision you made concerning the nature of our relationship. I think lunch would be pushing those boundaries, and I don't want to do that."

Vaughn was caught without a thing to say. "But," He stammered, confused. The Sydney of this moment was not the Sydney of the night before. In a way, he was relieved. In another, he was mystified. "It's just lunch."

"What are we going to talk about over lunch?" Sydney queried, her eyebrows raised. "Work? I don't think so." She reached over and pushed the down arrow on the panel beside the elevator. A car was waiting in the parking garage to take her home. 

"I think you may be twisting my intent, Sydney," Vaughn finally said before he paused to ask himself why it was so important to him that Sydney come to lunch. Perhaps he really didn't want her to go; maybe his greater aim was to paint himself as the magnanimous good guy. Thinking about that for a moment, Vaughn found that he was disgusted with himself. 

"I'm not twisting anything," Sydney stated matter-of-factly as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. Stepping inside, she turned to Vaughn and smiled. "You made up your mind, and I need to respect that. Have a good lunch." And with that, the doors closed and she was gone. 

"Hey," Weiss said when Vaughn returned to his work station. "This will come as no surprise, but, I was watching you two as you were chatting, and I have a question. What is up with you guys? The tension between you is unbelievable."

"Nothing is up with us," Vaughn sorted through a stack of files on his desk top. "Things are just different now, that's all."

"Oh, c'mon, Mike," Weiss scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I coulda walked over there and cut it with a knife." He prodded Vaughn's shoulder with his fist. "We're friends, man. Tell me what's going on. The suspense is killing me."

Vaughn smirked as he began to walk away. "Then I guess you'll drop dead."

"Yeah, well," Weiss pointed a finger at his good friend as he followed, jogging a bit to catch up.  "There's a thin line between love and hate," He called out as Vaughn headed for the exit. "You remember that!"

"Well, that was a nice treat," Alice breathed, following Vaughn into their apartment and slipping her sweater from her shoulders. "Calling me at work, asking me to meet you at L'amore Eterno. We should do that more often."  
  


Vaughn smiled faintly, catching Alice's sweater as she tossed it at him just before coming close to wrap her arms around his neck.  
  


"It felt just like a date, you calling me up to ask me out," She beamed. "I loved it. And that restaurant! Amazing," Alice placed a gentle kiss on her husband's lips. He kissed her back, caught up in her gratitude, warmed by her contented glow.  
  


"It was a great meal," Vaughn agreed, releasing Alice as she pulled away, grabbing her sweater from him. He followed her to the bedroom, watching with growing interest as she started to unzip her dress.  
  


"A great meal!" Alice exclaimed, turning sharply in front of their open closet door. Slipping the dress from her shoulders, she let it drop to her feet. "It was so much more than a great meal, Michael. The atmosphere, the music, the waiters - I loved that they spoke Italian."  
  


Vaughn just chuckled as he removed his wallet from his back pocket and opened the top drawer of his dresser. Alice picked up her dress and reached into the closet for a hanger.  
  


"I'm trying to remember what he said when we were leaving," Alice narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. "Do you remember any of it? It was sorvando something."  
  


As Vaughn reached to place his wallet inside the drawer, something struck him as odd. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew the contents of the drawer somehow did not look right. Absently, he answered Alice's question.  
  


"Era un piacere che servindo lei," Vaughn started to pull off his suit coat, his eyes still scanning the dresser drawer. "It means 'it was a pleasure serving you'."  
  


Alice was dumbfounded. She stood by the closet, staring at her husband. It wasn't until he looked up at her that he realized what he had done.   
  


"Michael-" Alice began, her eyes wide.  
  


"Sorry," Vaughn fumbled, quickly turning away as he loosened his tie. "I guess I never told you I took Italian in college," He laughed hollowly, busying himself with the buttons on his white shirt.  
  


"You must've gotten an A-plus," Alice was still surprised, shaking her head as she kicked her high heeled shoes into the closet.  
  


Vaughn took a deep breath, inwardly berating himself for the slip-up. As he reached to pull the cuff of his sleeve over his hand, he glanced at his naked wrist and was suddenly aware of what exactly was missing from his top drawer.   
  


"Alice," Vaughn dropped his dress shirt onto the bed and slowly turned back to the dresser. "Where is my watch?"  
  


Alice turned away from her own dresser, pulling a nightgown over her head. "Your watch? What watch?"  
  


Vaughn pointed to his open drawer. "My watch. The one I keep in the top drawer," His voice softened. "My father's watch."  
  


"Oh, right," Alice frowned slightly, coming to Vaughn's side. "I wanted it to be a surprise."  
  


"Wanted what to be a surprise?" Vaughn demanded, his eyes widening.  
  


Alice slipped her hand into his and squeezed it, smiling softly. "It was going to be a late wedding present," She explained. "When you stopped wearing the watch a year ago, you said it was because it hadn't worked in a long time. I took it to a watch repair shop to get it working again."  
  


"You did what?" Vaughn pulled his hand from hers. "You shouldn't have done that, Alice."  
  


"Why not?" Alice was shocked by Vaughn's strong reaction. "I thought you'd be glad. It's your father's watch - I thought you'd like to be able to wear it, to have it working again!"  
  


"No," Vaughn slammed the dresser drawer shut in an uncommon display of anger. "I don't want to wear it," He shook his head. "I don't want it working. I never want it to work again." Realizing what he was saying, Vaughn stopped, feeling the weight of his words on his tongue. "I don't want it to start beating again."  
  


Alice looked at him strangely. "Beating? Michael, what are you talking about?"   
  


Vaughn didn't say a word as he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Grabbing his keys and cell phone from the pocket of his suit coat, he started toward the door.   
  


"Are you leaving?" Alice demanded, following him through the living room.   
  


"I need to go out for a while," Vaughn mumbled, grabbing a jacket from the rack by the front door. He paused as Alice, standing behind him, made a small, startled noise. "Alice," Vaughn turned and caught her trying to control her emotions. "I know you were trying to do something nice," His voice dropped off. "That watch, it's just-"  
  


"Don't explain," Alice's expression shifted from hurt to anger. "Just go."   
  


Vaughn stood there a moment longer, the air between them seeming to crackle with the charge of their mutual frustration and disappointment. Without a word, Vaughn slipped out the door and didn't stick around to hear Alice forcefully shove the deadbolt into place.  
  


Meanwhile, a few miles away, Sydney and Will sat on his couch discussing the day's events over take-out Chinese.  
  


"I mean, it's just so impossible to understand," Sydney said, poking around a box of kung pao with her chopsticks. She extracted a broccoli floret and put it into her mouth, chewing slowly as her mind turned things over for the umpteenth time. "All of this craziness over a fifteenth century inventor."  
  


Will swallowed a bite of egg roll. "You know, I was going over your mother's statements, and during her debrief she said more than once that she believes you're still in danger," He picked up a carton of sweet and sour pork and used his chopsticks to dig in. "Does that concern you?"  
  


Sydney shook her head, sipping diet Coke through a straw. "Not really," She shrugged, her eyes darkening. "I almost hope Sloane comes after me. I'll put an end to this, once and for all."  
  


Will nodded. "I hope so," He said, putting a huge bite of rice and pork into his mouth. Just then, the phone began to ring. Will gave Sydney an apologetic look as he continued to chew, smiling as she playfully smacked his arm.  
  


"Yes, I'll get it," Sydney grinned and reached forward to pick up the phone from the coffee table. "Hello?"  
  


Sydney's smile quickly faded as the words spoken on the other end were the last ones she ever expected to hear.  
  


"Joey's Pizza?"  
  


******  
  


A/N: Thanks again for the thoughtful reviews. I am continually educated and inspired by your humble opinions. If you'll allow me to be greedy – keep `em comin'!  
  



	10. Picking Up Pieces

Chapter Ten: Picking Up Pieces

Walking into the self-storage warehouse, Sydney paused behind a stack of moving boxes to collect herself. She could hear movement up ahead, just beyond where she stood; in her mind she imagined Vaughn pacing the familiar chain-link enclosure, gathering his thoughts as she did now. Listening closely, Sydney was puzzled by a rhythmic whacking sound; she couldn't place it, her curiosity piqued.

Leaning slightly to her left, she peered around the boxes. Vaughn was indeed inside their clandestine meeting space, looking the way he always had, comfortable in blue jeans, a gray t-shirt and brown suede jacket.

In his hand he held a weathered two-by-four and he was using it as a hockey stick, knocking around a discarded roll of packing tape. He whacked the makeshift puck from side to side, chasing it around the small space, his lips pressed tightly together as he concentrated on his lone pick-up game.

Sydney's heart ached. The image of Vaughn, boyish and playful, was almost more than she could bear. It was those times in her past when he looked much the same that she remembered most fondly: the walks through the park, the ice cream at twilight, the practice sessions out on the ice. 

Looking down at herself, Sydney suddenly realized that she was wearing the same sweater she'd worn on their last day at the ice rink. She wanted to find symbolism in it, but there was none; it had simply been the first thing she'd grabbed on her way out the door.

Sydney both did and did not want to disrupt Vaughn; however, he had summoned her there for a purpose. Her heart couldn't stand to wait a moment longer. Accidentally, but on purpose, Sydney dropped Will's car keys on the concrete floor as she stepped around the boxes that had previously obscured her from Vaughn's view.

Stopping short, Vaughn snapped his head up and smiled disarmingly as Sydney approached. She slid open the chain-link gate and stepped inside the intimate space, a wary smile on her lips.

"Hi," Vaughn offered, tossing the plank of wood to the side. It clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the emptiness surrounding them.

"Hi," Sydney replied, nervously sliding the ring linking Will's jangling keys on and off her index finger. Aware suddenly of how intrusive the noise was in this private space, she quickly dropped the keys into her pocket. 

Standing a few feet away from each other, they were quiet, their eyes meeting cautiously. Vaughn finally broke the silence, the words he had been preparing rushing from his lips.

"Can I change my mind?"

Sydney was silent, something welling up within her. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was fear – whatever it was, it kept her rooted to the spot.

It seemed an eternity before she spoke, asking the question to which she already knew the answer. 

"About what?"

Vaughn smiled hesitantly. "About us," He told her, his expression hopeful. "About our relationship."

Sydney nodded. "Okay," She said. "But why? You seemed so sure-"

"I did some thinking," Vaughn interrupted, eager to explain. "Maybe one of the reasons we always worked so well together was because we agreed early on that we could tell each other anything. I told you once that you would always have an ally, and you trusted that. It made a difference in how we interacted, how we did our jobs."

"But-" Sydney was heartened by his logic, but cautious just the same. "That was before everything changed, Vaughn. Back then, we were skirting around the real truth the whole time we were together, before SD-6 was dismantled."

"What truth was that?" Vaughn asked, although he knew he didn't have to.

Sydney turned her face toward the floor, swallowing hard. "That we had feelings for each other. Strong feelings."

Vaughn opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Sydney had a point, and he knew it. Turning away from her, Vaughn ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. 

"Okay," He said finally, nodding his head as he slowly turned back to her. "But truthfully, Syd, we have enough history that I think we can move on from there and be friends."

Sydney couldn't help but laugh, a rueful chuckle that filled the space between them.

"Oh, I get it. This is the 'let's just be friends' speech, right?" 

Vaughn grinned. "No, not really," He sobered, taking a deep breath. "Syd, I know we can't go back in time, but-" He approached her, his eyes deep and earnest. "Why can't we just go back to the way things were then? Before SD-6 was gone, before the barriers were removed. Because honestly, there are barriers in place now. And then, we worked well around it. We were able to talk about anything, share things – I miss that, Syd."

Sydney looked up into his eyes, pieces of her heart pressing into her soul, rubbing it raw. She pushed back the tears, defying the emotion that welled behind her eyes. 

"As long as we're speaking honestly, Vaughn," Sydney said, lifting a hand to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to tell you, I-" The words were on the tip of her tongue. She could taste them, feel their texture. But she swallowed them, chose ones less weighted. "I still have feelings for you."

Vaughn nodded soberly. "I understand that."

"No," Sydney said insistently. "No, I don't think you do," Her eyes searched his face. "Imagine if you woke up tomorrow morning and Alice told you that during the night she had fallen in love with someone else, that she was leaving you, no room for discussion. That's how I felt when I saw that ring on your finger, Vaughn. I had no say in the matter, no chance to question it. I haven't had two years to get used the idea of being without you."

"Who says I'm used to the idea?" The words tumbled from Vaughn's mouth before he could stop them. Their eyes locked, Sydney surprised by his confession. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I was never used to the idea that you were gone, Syd, and especially not to the idea that you were dead. And now you're here, and – well, it's a lot to try to get used to. I don't know that it's entirely possible."

Sydney walked past him to a makeshift bench that had been constructed from three shipping crates and a plank of particleboard. Sitting down, Sydney placed her hands in her lap, her eyes following the curve of her fingers.

"I can't wrap my head around any of it," She admitted softly, her voice punctuating the charged silence. "My mother filled in a lot of the blanks for me today, and I still can't fully comprehend that two years of my life are just gone, missing. I admit, Vaughn, having you back as a friend would fill in a few missing pieces, but, I don't know if it's right. I mean, I've been seeing Dr. Barnett and she's advised me to work towards getting over you, getting over us, but," Sydney paused, drawing in a deep breath. "If she knew how poorly I'd taken her advice-" Her voice drifted off as she lifted her eyes to see Vaughn standing beside her.

"I've not taken it, either," He admitted quietly. "Not completely, anyway."

"But you've moved on. You're married."

Vaughn dropped his eyes to the floor. "Yeah," He said hollowly. 

Silence prevailed for a few moments, both of them thinking deeply, both of their hearts and minds waging war over what they wanted and what was right. It was a battle both won and lost, both of them lacking the proper weapons for the fight, both unwilling to surrender. 

"Listen, Syd," Vaughn sat down beside her, leaving at least a foot of space between them. "Do you think we can manage it? I'd like it if we could kinda go back to the way things were, back when we first met-"

"I can't go back there," Sydney admitted strongly, her eyes dark. "I can't be in that place again, Vaughn. What kept us apart then was an enemy, a real enemy, and now – I can't put Alice in that role. I don't want to. It's not fair, especially to her," She looked away from him, concentrating on a loose thread on her sweater. "I meant what I said last night. She's decent and kind, and it's wrong of me to try to paint her as some kind of menace, some kind of evil power keeping you and I apart. The separation we had before was forced upon us by SD-6. This separation," Sydney met Vaughn's eyes. "This one is a choice."

"Okay," Vaughn nodded, the truth in her words causing pain that he wouldn't let her see. "What do we do now?" He slid his hands in the pockets of his jacket, leaning back against the chain-link. "We can't go back, and the arrangement I so stupidly set up wasn't working. What now?"

Sydney smiled softly. "Well, we've admitted that we'd like to be friends, so why don't we do that and then just see how it goes from there?" She suggested, turning to face him.

"You got good grades in school, didn't you?" Vaughn teased, smiling easily.

"I bet you did, too," Sydney poked him with her elbow, unaware of how deeply he felt it.

"Well, according to Alice, I got an A-plus in Italian," Vaughn rolled his eyes, still disgusted with his mistake. Sydney gave him a strange look, and he quickly explained. "Note to self," He finished. "From now on, French restaurants only. That one's easier to explain."

They were quiet for a few minutes, both contemplating the ease with which they'd fallen back in, the currents of old feelings drifting them toward one another. Vaughn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a deep, cleansing breath escaping him.

"When I got the call, in Las Vegas," He said, his voice textured with feeling. "I didn't want it to be true," He admitted. "I didn't, and yet I did – because I knew this would happen. I knew I'd be torn between the past and the present, the memory and the reality of you being in my life."

This time, there was no stopping it as tears welled up in Sydney's eyes, the warehouse enclosure blurring before her. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat stubborn and impassable.

"On the flight to Hong Kong, the whole way there, I was angry with myself," Vaughn sighed, fighting emotion of his own. "If I had just waited one more day before asking Alice to marry me. One more day-"

"Vaughn," Sydney reached over and placed her hand over his. He looked at her, his expression softening when as he witnessed the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Vaughn, don't do this," She pleaded. 

"Sydney," He sighed, her name a confession in itself. "Just 24 hours."  

Sydney sniffed, tears dripping onto her sweater. "Vaughn," She said. "She'd still have been pregnant."

The words struck a chord, and Vaughn drew in one deep breath after another. It was true. His desire to move on, to extricate Sydney from his heart – that had not been the reason. The story was deeper than that. There was more, much more to tell. 

"Last night, in the kitchen," Vaughn leaned into Sydney then, offering his shoulder, sliding an arm around her back. She readily accepted, laying her head against him, fresh tears filling her tired eyes. "I wanted to do something. Not just to hold your hand, but," Vaughn shook his head. "I just wanted to feel something other than guilt, something other than this overwhelming sense that I had let you down."

"You didn't," Sydney insisted, willing her stubborn heart to agree. "You didn't, Michael, honestly."

Vaughn drew back from her slightly, the mention of his given name causing him to smile. Sydney lifted her head, met his eyes, her expression questioning.

"Please," He said, grinning. "I've never asked you this before, but – don't call me Michael."

Sydney couldn't fight the grin that pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Get a lot of that at home, do you?"

"Oh, god," Vaughn moaned, rolling his eyes. "I hear it all the time. 'Michael, take out the garbage. Michael, pick up your socks. Michael, use a coaster.'"

"A coaster?" Sydney laughed outright, her tears abating. 

"Yeah, she's, like, obsessed with them," Vaughn's shoulders slumped as he relaxed, the laughter releasing what felt like years of tension. "You know, she wasn't like this before we married. We lived together for a while," He glanced down at Sydney in time to see her squeeze her eyes shut, her smile lessening. "I'm sorry, Syd – too much to know?"

"Too much to think about," Sydney admitted, resting against him. 

Vaughn smiled again, gently pressing his cheek to her forehead. "Yeah, well, you know – she never offered me a drawer."

"Hey, Pip – get down, girl," Sydney gently nudged the dog back as she opened the apartment door, quickly closing it again before Pip could escape. Her hair windblown, Sydney walked over to the couch and stopped, her hands on her hips, her flushed cheeks framing a wide smile.

Will glanced up from the paperwork in his lap, taking the pencil from between his teeth. 

"I take it from that expression that it went well."

Sydney sighed deeply and tossed Will's keys onto the coffee table. "You could say that," She nodded. Unzipping her sweater, she pulled it off and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. 

Will watched her for a moment, slowly removing his glasses and laying them on top of an open file on the couch cushion next to him. He could see, not just from her smile, but also from the way she moved that things with Vaughn had gone better than expected. Sydney seemed somehow lighter, her spirit liberated, as she walked past him and headed into the kitchen. 

His eyes following her, Will swallowed hard. It wasn't that he wished for Sydney to be unhappy; he wanted nothing more than to see her at peace. But the idea that this new giddiness had come as a result of Vaughn – all at once, Will was pleased and jealous. But he was a good friend, and he'd rather die than let Sydney see that her reconciliation with Michael Vaughn caused him pain in a way he'd come to terms with long ago. 

Appearing behind him, a bottle of water in hand, Sydney snuck a peek at what he was working on. "More homework?"

"Yeah," Will grabbed his glasses and put them back on, forcing himself to concentrate despite the distraction of his yearning. "I'm going to be speaking in the morning briefing about some of the intel your mother provided. I'm just making some notes."

"Don't stress about it," Sydney playfully tousled his hair, the touch of her hand making it impossible for him to pay attention to the papers in his hand. "I think I'm gonna go to bed," Sydney announced, walking around and grabbing her sweater. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Will called after her as she started down the hallway. Sighing deeply, Will shook his head to clear his mind and turned back to the task at hand. He was just picking back up where he left off when Sydney appeared again, standing in the doorway to the living room in her pajamas. 

"Will."

Will jotted down a quick note to keep his place and glanced up over the top of his glasses. "Yeah?"

"After my apartment was cleared out, you said a lot of my furniture got divided up," Sydney's eyes narrowed in question. "What happened to my dresser? From my bedroom."

Will thought for a moment, tucking the pencil behind his ear. "Oh, well, your dad and Vaughn moved it into the storage facility," He nodded. "And after I got this place and got your table, I went over and looked for it. It was there, but I decided not to take it. Part of it was missing."

Sydney's heart leapt into her throat as she anticipated Will's reply. "Which part?"

"The middle drawer."

Michael Vaughn was seriously late. As he rushed around the kitchen, half a piece of toast hanging from his mouth, he knocked a juice glass off the counter and watched helplessly as it shattered on the beige linoleum.

"Damn," Vaughn cursed, spitting the toast into his hand. He tossed it at the sink, barely making it, and grabbed five or six paper towels from the roll over the microwave. Crouching down, grateful he'd already put on his shoes, he attempted to clean up the juice without catching his fingers on the jagged pieces of glass. 

Alice had left early for a meeting at her office. When she'd gotten up, an hour before they usually rose, she'd turned off the alarm and had forgotten to reset it for her husband. He had woken up forty-five minutes later than usual and had immediately launched into a panicked rush to make it out the door. One of the things Kendall hated most was when agents showed up late to morning briefing.

Paper towels dripping, Vaughn hurried to the garbage can to drop them in. He then grabbed the broom from the pantry and was in the middle of sweeping up the sticky shards of glass when the telephone began to ring.

Vaughn glanced up at the clock on the microwave. He should've been out the door almost twenty minutes ago. 

"Arrrgh," Vaughn growled, tossing the broom aside and stepping over the mess on the floor. He thought of letting the machine pick up the call, but past experience never allowed him to let a phone go unanswered. Grabbing the cordless handset off the base, he quickly answered. "Hello?"

A warm voice greeted him. "Hi, this is Abby calling from Dr. Creighton's office. May I speak to Alice Vaughn, please?"

Vaughn cradled the phone with his shoulder and reached for the broom. "She's already gone to work. This is her husband – can I help you?"

"Oh, hi, Mr. Vaughn," Abby brightened, her professional tone relaxing slightly. "I was just calling to remind Alice of her appointment at 10:15 on Thursday. Would you mind letting her know I called?"

"Oh, sure, I'll tell her," Vaughn hastily swept the pieces into a neat pile. Abby thanked him, and Vaughn suddenly remembered something he wanted to ask her. "Before you go, Abby, I was wondering something – Alice and I were discussing this the other night. How soon will we be able to get an ultrasound, you know, to look at the baby?"

Abby chuckled, her experience in a obstetrician's office turning this conversation into the familiar. "Well, let me look at her chart," She was quiet for a moment. Vaughn could hear the turning of pages, the tapping of a pen. "She's fifteen weeks, so, really, anytime. Remind Alice to bring that up with Dr. Creighton, and we'll see what we can do."

"Great, thanks. I'll give Alice the news." With that, Abby wished him well and the call ended. Vaughn leaned the broom up against the counter and hung up the phone before reaching for the dustpan to collect the broken glass. 

With that task completed, Vaughn dashed back to the bedroom to put on his suit coat and checked quickly to be sure he had his wallet, cell phone and keys.

"Keys, keys," Vaughn repeated this frustrating mantra as he searched the bedroom, digging through his top drawer, turning over the bed pillows and kicking aside his abandoned pajamas which lay in heap at the foot of the bed. "Damn."

Back in the living room, Vaughn checked the pockets of his suede jacket and then turned to the entertainment center and bookshelves before finally and triumphantly setting his eyes upon the ring of gleaming keys laying right where he'd left them on the coffee table. Bending to scoop them up, he noticed the photo album full of his pictures of France. It was sitting next to the L.A. Times, right where Will Tippin had left it Sunday night.

Alice's voice echoed through Vaughn's mind; the night before she had kindly reminded him to put the photo album back in the bookshelf. Sighing, Vaughn grabbed it and reached to slide it back into place among the travel guides and old yearbooks. An idea struck him suddenly, and he stopped, his hand resting on the spine of the album. The dates of his vacation flashed in his mind and his brow furrowed. Before the thoughts could fully form, however, his cell phone loudly chirped.

"Hello?" Vaughn brought it to his ear as he headed for the door. "Hey, Weiss. Yes, I'm running late. Well, stall it for me, would you? I swear, I'm on my way. Seriously, I'm walking out the door right now. I'll be there in ten."

"Don't forget the Philippines," Weiss flipped a page in his notebook, pointing at it with his pen. "Sloane had a beach house there for a while. Maybe he's gone back."

"Derevko said she was there not too long ago. She didn't turn anything up," Will consulted his notes, as well, opening a file folder. "I think, based on what she's given us, the southern region of Europe may be a safe bet."

Across the wide mahogany table, Vaughn was busy jotting something in his notebook as Sydney reviewed a report generated by a CIA contact in Milan. She glanced over at Will, smiled, and turned her attention back to pages in her hand. The brainstorming session had been going on for nearly and hour, an impromptu gathering after the official briefing had ended. 

Glancing at his watch, Will started to gather his things. "I'm due in another meeting in about ten minutes, and I need to review a couple of things," He said as he pushed back his chair. "Excuse me."

"We're about done here, anyway," Weiss tossed his pen onto the tabletop as he let out a tired sigh. "The dead ends have been pretty thoroughly exhausted."

After Will had gone, Vaughn sat back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the notes he'd scribbled on the legal pad before him. Sydney looked up at him, then over at Weiss, who was casually watching the two of them. He smiled, a message hidden within his mirthful grin. Sydney just narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth hinting at a smile of her own.

"I need to make a phone call," Vaughn said suddenly, standing up. He grabbed his notebook and tucked it under his arm. "I'm also going to check with a contact of mine in France, find out if he's heard anything. I'll let you know." He nodded at Weiss and then at Sydney, his eyes lingering on her a moment longer before he turned and left the room.

"You two seem a bit cozier," Weiss mused, shuffling his notes and stuffing them randomly into his black leather portfolio. 

Casually, Sydney reorganized the reports she'd been perusing, sliding them into the labeled folder and stacking them neatly. "I don't know about cozy," She said quietly. "But things have improved, if that's what you mean."

"Sure, that's what I mean," Weiss nodded, sitting back in his chair. He waited a moment, gathering his thoughts, his expression sobering. "Hey, Syd," His voice stopped her as she was about to rise from her chair. "You know he blamed himself for a long time. I don't know if he told you that," Weiss searched for the right words, reaching up to absently stroke his tie. "The night you disappeared. He spent a long time afterwards saying that he shouldn't have just dropped you off, should've walked you inside, should've stuck around. I don't know that he's ever gotten over that."

Sydney was riveted, Weiss's words penetrating her deeply. She blinked hard against the gathering moisture in her eyes. 

"No, he didn't tell me," Sydney shook her head, her voice quiet. "But he didn't have to. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at me."

Weiss nodded, his lips pressed into a straight line. He slowly got up from his seat, tucking his pen in his breast pocket. 

"I just thought you should know, in case he seems reluctant to let you out of his sight," Weiss moved toward the door. "Cuz to tell you the truth, Syd, I'd be reluctant, too."

The silence in the room enveloped Sydney as she sat alone, struggling against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. She breathed deeply, willing herself to stay in control, stubbornly refusing the tears that begged to fall. Raising a hand to her forehead, she lowered her head, closing her eyes, quietly gathering the pieces of her heart. After a moment or two, she raised her head again, looking out into the ops center through the panels of glass bordering the door. 

Will was just outside, pacing, his face a mask of worry. Sydney, grateful to put herself aside, grabbed her notebook and left the conference room. She came to Will's side, her brow knit with concern.

"Will, you look like you're in pain," She observed nervously. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, hey, Syd," Will stopped pacing and attempted a smile. "I've got a meeting with Kendall and your dad in about five minutes and I'm wrecked."

"Why?" Sydney smiled, surprised. "You speak in the briefings all the time, in front of Kendall, in front of my dad. What's the problem?"

"Syd," Will raised his eyebrows, uncertain that Sydney grasped the gravity of the situation. "This is, like, one on one. Your dad, Kendall, and me. And I don't have any idea what it's about." Distractedly, he ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Maybe I'm getting fired."

"I doubt that," Sydney insisted, crossing her arms over the notebook as she held it against her body. "It's probably just to more information, go a little more in depth. Or maybe they want you to start working on something that's classified, something they couldn't bring up in front of everyone." 

Will exhaled sharply. "Yeah, yeah, that's probably it," He nodded. He looked away from her for a moment, then looked back, shaking his head. "I don't know why I get this way. I'm, like, sweating buckets under this jacket," He pulled at his mustard yellow corduroy blazer. 

"First of all, burn this," Sydney yanked at the sleeve of the jacket. "Secondly, take a deep breath and don't move. I'll be right back." She jogged over to her workstation, laid down her notebook and pulled open a drawer. Digging in her handbag, she pulled out a small silver tube and soon returned to Will's side. "I love this stuff," She held up the tube for him to see. "I just picked more up at the drug store the other day." Taking off the cap, she rolled up the tube and grabbed Will's chin with one hand. "Hold still." With the other hand, she began to apply the contents of the tube to Will's lips.

Will froze. "Is this lipstick?" He demanded, his eyes darting around the room to see who was watching. "Are you putting lipstick on me?" 

"No," Sydney chuckled, putting the cap back on after she had finished. She demonstrated for him how to rub his lips together, then she grinned. "It's aroma therapy lip balm. It's supposed to relax you, keep you calm," She slid the tube in her pocket. "I used to put it on just before I'd go into meetings with Sloane at SD-6."

Will sighed, relieved. "Did it work?"

Sydney shrugged. "Well, I never killed him."

"Maybe it works too well," Will smiled as Sydney playfully shoved him. As he moved away from her, avoiding her reach, she glanced past him and caught sight of Vaughn. He was on the phone at his desk, his brow furrowed, his face serious. "Hey, thanks, Syd," Will lightly touched her arm as he looked at his watch. "I gotta go – it's show time."

"You'll be great," Sydney called after him as he headed toward the hallway leading to Kendall's office. She watched him go for a moment, and then, unable to stop herself, she began to walk slowly in the direction of Vaughn's workstation. 

Vaughn did not see her approaching, his attention given fully to his phone conversation.

"Yes, thank you. No, you've been very helpful. I appreciate it. Thanks again," Vaughn hung up and immediately dialed again. Tapping his pen on the desktop, Vaughn sighed when he heard his wife's voicemail, rather than his wife, answer the line. He waited for the tone and began to leave a message. "Alice, hi. Uhm, I know I said I was going to hockey practice tonight, but I'm just gonna come home instead. I think it's important that we talk. Don't worry about dinner - I'll bring something home. Call me if that's not okay," Vaughn hesitated, suddenly aware of Sydney's presence as she stood behind him. Quietly, he concluded his call. "Love you. Bye."

Vaughn hung up the receiver as he rose to his feet, slowly turning around. Their eyes meeting, Sydney and Vaughn both smiled, a shy, quiet smile, the kind often exchanged between friends just becoming comfortable with each other after a long while apart. Vaughn was about to speak when Weiss approached, rubbing his hands together, his face bearing a warm smile.

"I'm hungry," He announced, apropos of nothing. "Is anybody hungry?"

Sydney grinned, glancing at Weiss and then back at Vaughn, her eyes suddenly bright.

"I'm hungry," She decided, nodding. "Let's go get some lunch."

******

A/N:  The response to the last chapter was overwhelming. Thanks so much for sharing your kind words. If I've pleased you again with this chapter, don't hold back – I'd love to hear it.

Confidential to Shannon: Drugs are bad, but thanks for the compliment. :-)


	11. Coming Undone

Chapter Eleven: Coming Undone          

Water ran in the sink, spilling over Vaughn's hands as he washed the dishes and stacked them neatly in the wooden drying rack on the counter top. Rinsing the soapsuds from a dinner plate, he glanced at it long enough to see his shadowed reflection on the slick surface.

Vaughn sighed, breathing deeply in pursuit of the strength needed to have the conversation he had been dreading all day. The sharp blade of his newly acquired knowledge thrust deeper into his side as he reached for the drain plug and pulled it, letting the water spiral away. He could not delay it any further. His silence during dinner had already aroused Alice's suspicions; she would be seeking him out any moment, asking questions, requesting that he explain his reasons for wanting to talk.

After drying his hands, Vaughn snapped off the kitchen light and treaded lightly as he made his way into the living room. Alice was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a book in her lap. She looked up at her husband and smiled, pulling off her reading glasses before setting them and the book aside.

"Thank you for dinner," She said, her eyes on Vaughn's face as he quietly sat down beside her. "And for doing the dishes."

"You're welcome," Vaughn said automatically, reaching for the remote. He turned off the television and then rubbed his eyes, again drawing a deep breath.

"Michael, honey," Alice said soothingly, the words assaulting Vaughn's ears, a live wire of smoldering anger sparking in his mind. "I know you want to talk, and I have a feeling it's about last night. If so, you don't need to apologize… you explained when you came home. I understand that the watch is special to you-"

Vaughn interrupted her, unable to allow her to continue so far down the wrong track. 

"This isn't about last night," He said, his voice low, noticeably controlled. "This is about something else entirely."

"Oh," Alice's face fell, her deep blue eyes mirroring her confusion. "Okay, then. What is it?"

Vaughn didn't look at her, his eyes resting instead on his hands as he methodically twisted his wedding band around his finger, the gilded band glinting yellow as it slowly rotated. 

"I got a phone call this morning from Abby, at Dr. Creighton's office," Vaughn began. "She wanted to remind you of your appointment on Thursday."

"Oh, great," Alice smiled brightly, reaching out to touch Vaughn's arm. He resisted the urge to pull away. "Did you happen to ask her about the ultrasound?"

Meeting Alice's eyes for the first time, Vaughn nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," He couldn't hide the strands of anger woven into his voice. "And she told me something I hadn't realized," Vaughn's brow furrowed, his green eyes dark. "You're fifteen weeks along."

Alice glanced away from him as she considered this, her mind quickly checking the facts.

"Yes, that's right," She ultimately agreed. Her smile returned. "I made it through the first trimester."

Vaughn watched her carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "When I got to work, I started thinking about those fifteen weeks. I began to wonder how exactly that's calculated. I mean, no woman can be certain of the exact date she gets pregnant, right?"

Sensing that Vaughn was waiting for her reply, Alice shrugged, nodding. "Right."

"Okay, so, that being the case, I called Abby back," Vaughn shifted slightly on the couch, turning to face Alice, his expression hardening. "I wanted to know what the approximate conception date was, because something about that fifteen weeks didn't seem right."

As the words left Vaughn's mouth, the color drained from Alice's face, her smile fading completely. She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. 

"Why didn't you just call me? I could've answered that for you," She tried to sound casual, but she was obviously unnerved.

"Good question," Vaughn nodded, his intensity increasing. "Why didn't I just ask you, Alice?"

Alice drew back, her eyes widening. She feigned confusion, shaking her head. 

"I don't know."

"Well, then, I'll tell you," Vaughn continued. "I didn't ask you because I wanted an honest answer."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alice immediately uncrossed her legs and got up from the couch, turning her back to Vaughn, turning her back on the dawning of the truth. 

Vaughn exhaled deeply as he also rose to his feet, following Alice into the bedroom. She went to her dresser and yanked open the top drawer, her defensiveness giving way to agitation. Vaughn leaned against the closet door, his arms crossed over his chest, watching as Alice grabbed her nightgown and tossed it onto the bed.

"Alice," Vaughn began, confirmation of what he already knew fueling his growing irritation. "Fifteen weeks ago, I was on vacation in France," He said loudly. "Tell me that what I'm thinking is wrong. Tell me honestly that I've got the dates screwed up or that the doctor is making a mistake and I'll drop this and never speak of it again."

Alice turned to him, her shallow breathing and quivering chin speaking words too loud for the four walls that attempted to contain them. Her eyes filling with tears, Alice gulped, trying hard to find her voice.

"I… I don't…" She went silent as a sob threatened to escape. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Alice simply shook her head, tears making their decent down her pale cheeks.

"Before I left for France," Vaughn's voice filled the void between them, unsympathetic, unmoved by her emotional display. "You and I were fighting. I remember because you were upset that a project at work was preventing you from taking time off so you could go with me. You were angry that I was going anyway, without you."

Alice was mute, her eyes fixed on Vaughn's face.

"I was only gone for two weeks, Alice," Vaughn pointed out, the shock of the truth making an appearance in his shattered tone. "But I guess you were so angry with me for leaving that you had to find someone else to entertain you while I was away."

"Stop it!" Alice suddenly cried, a sob choking her words. "Please, Michael, just stop."

"Stop what?" Vaughn demanded, angrily taking steps toward her. "Stop the truth, just the way you've been for the past three months?" He paused, a foot or so away, throwing his hands up into the air. "Who was it, Alice? A co-worker? A stranger in a bar? Who?"

Alice collapsed onto the bed, her tears overtaking her, her shoulders heaving with sobs. Vaughn took a step back from her, torn between anger and helplessness as he watched his wife emotionally fall apart. Hanging his head, he raked his hands through his hair as Alice remained silent except for her small, whimpering sobs. 

Disgusted, Vaughn turned away from her and went back to the closet, pulling open the door. He reached in, grabbed his backpack, and then tossed it onto the bed. As it landed near Alice's crumpled body, she lifted her tear-stained face from the mattress. 

Stricken, she picked herself up from the bed and faced Vaughn, her eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" She asked shakily, her voice broken. She watched as Vaughn went to his dresser and started removing boxer shorts, t-shirts and socks from his top drawer. "Michael, where are you going?"

Vaughn shoved the clothing into his backpack and went to the closet for a pair of jeans and a couple of neckties.

"I can't stay here, Alice. I can't sleep in this bed, pretend that we can survive this. You've just told me our whole marriage is a lie," Vaughn grabbed his dress shoes from the closet and shoved them in the bag, too, sliding the jeans and neckties on top. Going back for suits and dress shirts, he left them on their hangers, laying them out on the bed. 

Alice panicked, running to step in front of Vaughn as he tried to retrieve a small black canvas case from the top shelf of the closet. 

"No, Michael, no - I love you. I wanted to marry you. That's why I lied, I didn't want to lose you," Alice gripped Vaughn's shirt as desperation shone in her eyes. 

Vaughn responded coldly. "That's the most twisted definition of love I've ever heard." He pushed past her and grabbed the canvas case, taking it with him into the bathroom. As he stood at the sink, collecting his shaving supplies and other small personal items, Alice sank back on the bed, sniffing loudly and giving herself over to a fresh spate of tears. 

Returning to the bedroom, Vaughn shoved the small case into his backpack before zipping it closed. Alice was doubled over as she sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. 

"Don't go," She sobbed. "I'm sorry, Michael, I'm so sorry…"

Something in the way she said his name resonated in Vaughn's heart, reflecting off the broken pieces, echoing deeply. He sighed defeatedly, squeezing his eyes shut as he reached out a hand to his wife and gently stroked her flaxen hair. 

"Why didn't you just tell me, Alice?" He begged, his voice plaintive. "A mistake is a mistake. Maybe we could have worked through it, maybe we could have found a way. But you let us get this far, you let me ask you to marry me on the pretense that you were carrying my child!"

Alice sat up suddenly, her watery eyes searching Vaughn's face. "Wait a minute," She began, her voice laced with disbelief. "Is that the only reason you asked me to marry you? Because of the baby?"

Vaughn pulled back from her, silent, wounded and aching.

"Michael," Alice continued tenuously, the truth dawning on her slowly, painfully. "Did you want to marry me? Or were you just being noble, stepping up and taking responsibility?"

Vaughn picked up his keys, wallet and cell phone from the dresser top. "A responsibility that turns out not to be mine," His voice was weak as the awful truth tumbled from his lips.

Alice stood up, her eyes narrowed, her face drawn. "Answer me," She demanded firmly. "Did you only marry me because I'm pregnant?"

Without a word, Vaughn gathered his clothing from the bed and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. Before turning to leave her, Vaughn met Alice's eyes, the expression on her face a reflection of the brokenness in his voice.

"I hope you'll be able to sleep tonight. I know I sure as hell won't." 

"Hey, Mike," Weiss opened the door of his apartment, his hair disheveled. "C'mon in," He stepped aside, allowing Vaughn to pass, his suits and dress shirts slung over his shoulder, his backpack in his hand.

   
"Sorry if I woke you," Vaughn set the backpack on the floor and hung his good clothes on the coat rack. 

"Naw, it's fine," Weiss closed the door, waving a hand to dismiss Vaughn's apology. "I just dozed off watching TV. Not a big deal," He watched as Vaughn crouched down, patted his knees and let out a low whistle.

Exactly on cue, an excited white bulldog lumbered into the living room and headed straight for Vaughn, a grumbling bark signaling his happiness. Vaughn broke into a wide grin as he lavished attention on the dog, vigorously scratching the scruff of his neck and rubbing his velvet soft ears. 

"Hey, Donovan," Vaughn greeted his dog, allowing the animal to lick his chin. "How ya doin', boy?"

Weiss sighed, smiling. "So, what's the story, Mikey? I know you didn't come over her to make use of Hotel Weiss just because you miss your dog," He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Vaughn rubbed the dog's belly. "Trouble at Chateau le Vaughn?"

Vaughn's brow furrowed as he gave the dog one last pat before standing to face Weiss. Donovan nosed at his master's legs, begging for more attention. Receiving none, he circled the rug two or three times before finally plopping down, his head on his paws. 

Shrugging off his jacket, Vaughn tossed it over the back of the couch and avoided Weiss's eyes as he took a seat, the leather cushions creaking beneath him. Weiss sensed that the trouble was not just of the typical husband-in-the-doghouse variety. He cleared his throat and pointed over his shoulder at the kitchen.

"What can I get you, buddy? A Coke? Maybe a beer?"

"Beer, please," Vaughn answered, nodding. Weiss stood and watched him a moment longer before turning to retrieve the cold beverages. 

Vaughn leaned forward in the seat, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging idle. As he stared at the muted TV, a commercial came on for baby formula, or diapers, or some other infant-related product. Without warning, the television blurred before Vaughn's eyes. He pressed his lips together, his face crumpling as he was rendered powerless against the flood that began to overflow his stoic dam. 

"All I got is domestic, man. I know you like the imported stuff, but-" Weiss stopped dead in his tracks as he approached the couch, the bottles of beer in his hands. "Hey, Mikey," He quickly set the beers on the coffee table and snapped off the TV before sitting down next to his good friend. "Hey, man, what is it? What's going on?" He placed a hand gently on Vaughn's shaking shoulder, troubled as Vaughn fought against a wave of sobs that wracked his body.

"She lied to me," Vaughn choked out the words, a hand over his eyes as he attempted in vain to stem the flow of tears. 

"Who? Alice?" Weiss's brow was knit with concern. He swallowed hard, the raw emotion he witnessed beginning to stir some of his own. He could see Vaughn struggling, fighting hard not to give in to the anguish, the pain that was turning him inside out. "C'mon, Mike," Weiss coaxed quietly. "Just let it out, man."

Vaughn buried his face in his hands, the tears coming hard and fast. He gulped in air, his breathing ragged as he released his emotion in a succession of quiet sobs. When he began to gain control of himself, he sighed deeply, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand until Weiss brought him a box of kleenex. After blowing his nose and taking a sip of his beer, he swallowed hard and found strength enough to tell Weiss the truth.

After he had finished relating the conversation that had taken place only an hour before, Vaughn dabbed at his eyes again as Weiss sat, confounded, speechless. 

"Mike, man, I don't know…" Weiss was at a loss. "I can't…"

"I know," Vaughn nodded, understanding completely. "I can't either. I mean – this whole time. For three months she's lied to me. She's known all this time that the baby isn't mine, and she found it easier to let me believe it was."

"You definitely know this? Are you sure it wasn't from before your vacation?"

"No," Vaughn replied firmly. "Before I left, we were fighting on and off for two weeks. We didn't -" He stopped, knowing he didn't need to explain. "And I asked her. I asked her there in our bedroom to tell me that I was wrong. And she didn't say a damn thing." At this, his face collapsed again, and Vaughn gave himself over to a fresh rush of tears, hanging his head, clutching kleenex in his closed fists. 

Weiss sank back into the couch cushions, one hand resting lightly on Vaughn's back. He sighed, searching his mind for words of encouragement, anything he could say to make Vaughn feel better. He knew there were no words for that, no pat phrases to alleviate his friend's pain. The situation sucked; trite words of wisdom would only seek to diminish that which was excruciatingly true. 

"I'm angry," Vaughn suddenly admitted, his voice broken. "I'm torn, I'm confused, I'm hurt," His voice grew in intensity as the last of his tears drained away. "But I'm mostly angry."

"That's totally understandable, man," Weiss reassured him before taking a drink of his beer. "You have every right to be pissed off."

"I just feel so-" Vaughn shook his head, his lips pursed as he searched for words that were strong enough. "I feel played," He finally decided. "Like a fool, I've been tricked."

 Weiss drew in a deep breath, patting Vaughn's shoulder. "Yeah, Mikey – that's why they call it cheating."

Vaughn exhaled sharply, shaking his head again, his disbelief and shock giving way to his anger, his feelings of injustice. "Yeah, she cheated me," Vaughn said quietly, looking up at Weiss, his green eyes intense with feeling. "She cheated me out of all this time I could have been with Sydney."

"Whoa," Weiss drew back slightly, his hands in the air. "I'm not sure that that name needs to enter this conversation."

"Why not?" Vaughn questioned, grabbing his beer and taking a long drink. 

"Careful," Weiss started to reach for the bottle as Vaughn swallowed half of it in one gulp. "You're not gonna get smashed and drunk dial her, are you?"

At that comment, Vaughn couldn't help but chuckle. It felt good to smile, and he sighed, letting the grin slowly fade. "No," He shook his head, setting his beer back on the coffee table. "But can you kinda see my point? Syd's been drifting since she came back, looking for comfort. All I did was hurt her, continuously, with my stupid boundaries and dumb ideas about our relationship. And it was all because of Alice, because I was married, because I believed then that the feelings I had for Sydney were dangerous. And it was all for nothing. Nothing at all."

The room was quiet for a few moments as Weiss silently sipped his own beer, mulling things over, processing Vaughn's words and realizing how much truth was embedded in them.

"I understand," He said finally. "But Mike – you're married to Alice. You made the decision to make her your wife. Tell me there's a reason behind that, besides her being pregnant with a child you believed was yours."

Vaughn was silent, letting his actions speak louder than words as he quietly removed his wedding band and set it on the table next to his beer, the gold ring was lusterless in the shadow of Vaughn's disdain. Staring at it with intense eyes, he sighed heavily. 

"Whatever chance we had at surviving this is gone," Vaughn said with deliberate finality. "A month ago, I might've tried to fix it, to work with Alice to make this work. But not now. Any reason I had for doing that vanished when I walked into that safe house in Hong Kong."

"Just go slow," Weiss advised quietly. "With all the broken hearts laying around, it'd be awful easy to mix up the pieces."

"That was beautiful, man," Vaughn turned to his friend, attempting to disguise a smile. "Did you get that from Dr. Phil?"

"A fortune cookie, actually," Weiss nodded just before breaking into a wide grin. The two of them laughed together before Weiss slowly stood up, stretching languidly. "I'll go get a spare blanket and pillow for you. I hope you don't mind the couch."

"No, that's cool," Vaughn sank back into the cushions as Donovan roused from a nap, loping over to this master's side, nudging Vaughn's hand with his snout. Weiss glanced back to see Vaughn contentedly rubbing his dog's ears, scratching his head as Donovan panted happily.

"It's surprising, about Alice," Weiss called over his shoulder as he headed out of the room. "But I guess I wouldn't put it past her. There's something not right about a woman who makes you get rid of your dog."

"Pip! Where are ya, girl?" Will walked slowly through his apartment, squeaking Pip's favorite toy. As he neared the bedroom, he called out again. "Pip! Yo, Pip!"

Will stepped into the bedroom and stopped, dropping his hands to his sides. Sydney sat cross-legged on the bed in her pajamas, her hair still damp from a bath. Next to her, curled up on the bedspread, Pip had her head in Sydney's lap as Sydney gently stroked the dog's ears.

"You have the best dog, Will," Sydney grinned, looking up as Will approached the bed. "She's so loving and loyal."

"Yeah, to you," Will moaned in feigned jealousy. He tossed the squeak toy aside and reached out to pat Pip's back as he sat down on the bed beside them. "I'm glad you two get along so well."

"We're the best of friends," Sydney smiled again, leaning into give the dog a squeeze. The three of them sat quietly for a few moments, both Will and Sydney showering attention upon the lucky pooch. She soaked it in, licking their hands, nosing their thighs if they dared to stop petting her, even for a moment. 

"Hey, Will," Sydney spoke up, watching as Pip stood and stretched before jumping off the bed, suddenly leaving the room. 

"I guess she got hungry," Will chuckled, watching her go. He turned back to Sydney, smiling. "What?"

"I've been meaning to ask you – how did your meeting go with my dad and Kendall?"

Will's smile faded and he reached up to scratch his head, momentarily avoiding Sydney's eyes. "It was good," He nodded. "I really had nothing to be nervous about."

"See? I told you," Sydney reached out and poked Will's arm. When he failed to duck or retaliate, Sydney drew back, her brow furrowing, her dark eyes searching Will's face. "Will – what is it?"

Will fidgeted, rubbing his hands on his jeans, swallowing hard. "Syd," He said soberly, meeting her eyes. "I'm gonna tell you something, and I have a feeling you're not going to like it."

Sydney shifted uncomfortably, clasping her hands in her lap. Her eyes, serious and dark, urged Will to continue.

"Tonight at dinner," Will began. "You mentioned wanting to start to look for your own apartment. I didn't say anything then, but," He sighed, reaching up to distractedly rub his forehead. "In the meeting with your dad and Kendall, they told me that until Sloane is caught, you have to stay here with me. I've been assigned as sort of your guardian."

"What?" Sydney questioned immediately, her eyes wide. "My guardian? Will, what are you talking about?"

"Maybe guardian isn't the right word," Will fumbled, searching for the right way to explain. "They are concerned about the threat against you. Derevko stressed that Sloane is very likely to come after you. As far as he's concerned, his work with you isn't finished. Kendall and Jack don't want you to be alone, at any time. You're going to have to stay here, and let me sorta serve as your escort."

Sydney watched Will carefully as her mind struggled to accept what she was being told. One of the things she hated was being coddled; the idea that she needed a guardian, regardless of who was assigned to the task, rubbed her the wrong way in more places than she could count.

"Will," Sydney spoke slowly, fighting the urge to express her anger. She knew this was not Will's call; he had not made the decision to make sure she had a babysitter. "How does this even make sense? You're not an agent. You're not field graded. You don't have the tactical skills to protect me or serve in any form of that capacity." 

"I'm just the lookout, Syd," Will hurried to clarify. "I'm not the actual enforcer. Kendall and Jack want me to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, anything that might evolve into a threat. And then I report back to them."

"You're reporting to them about me," Sydney couldn't help the small flash of anger that flared in her voice. "When? Every hour? Like, when you tell me you're going to walk Pip, are you actually phoning in a report?"

Will shook his head.  "No, it's not like that," He vehemently insisted. "I only report in if I see something. And then Kendall and your dad… they contact the go-to guys."

"The go-to guys?"

"Yeah," Will got up off the bed and went to the window. Beckoning to Sydney with the wave of his hand, he waited until she was by his side before he drew back the curtain. "That van down there," He pointed. A windowless van was parked at the curb; a logo on the side read 'Al's TV Repair'. "Those are the go-to guys."

Sydney turned away from the window, her face stoic. "FBI," She said dejectedly. Crawling back onto the bed, she avoided looking at Will as she yanked back the covers and climbed underneath, sitting up against the pillows that were propped up on the headboard. 

"I'm sorry, Syd," Will stood by the window, his hands in his pockets, his expression troubled. "I wasn't supposed to tell you anything. Your dad knew you'd be resistant."

"I can't live my life in a bubble," Sydney declared, grabbing a book off the bedside table. She opened it, propping it in her lap, pretending to read. She was too bothered to concentrate, however, and instead just sighed heavily. "And I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"No one is debating that," Will assured her. "But Syd – somehow they got you two years ago. It could happen again."

Sydney didn't answer, her eyes glued to a page of the book, unable to recall the plot, her only thoughts on the truths she was struggling to accept about her life. She was a target, more so now than ever before, and even after everything that had happened to her, she still could not have a normal existence or anything close to it.

Will left the room momentarily, returning with a pint of ice cream and two spoons. Sydney didn't object as he kicked off his shoes and crawled up onto the bed next to her. After adjusting the pillows behind himself and settling in beside her, Will held out one of the spoons.

"It's coffee, one of our favorites," He said quietly. "There's only a little bit left. I thought we could finish it off."

Sydney sighed shakily, feeling too close to tears. She smiled weakly and accepted the spoon, setting the book aside. Will opened the ice cream and they both dipped in, quietly taking the first bites. Sydney allowed the ice cream to melt on her tongue, the rich flavor soothing her. As she extended the spoon for a second bite, something suddenly occurred to her, and the words tumbled from her as a much-needed confession.

"That's how I got her," She said, scooping ice cream from the container. "That's how I proved to myself that you were right about Fra-" She paused, correcting herself. "Allison. I offered her a bite of my coffee ice cream, and she took it."

Will, eyes wide, stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Francie doesn't like coffee ice cream."

"That's what she said, before she tried to kill me," Sydney brought her spoon to her mouth and again let the ice cream sit on her tongue, melting to nothing before she went back for another spoonful. 

Will swallowed hard after taking his last bite. He let Sydney have the last spoonful and then set the empty container on the bedside table. Taking a deep breath, Will reached for the bottom of his t-shirt and slowly lifted it to reveal a jagged, angry scar across his stomach. Seeing it for the first time, Sydney gasped, her jaw dropping. 

"Oh my god, Will," She breathed, reaching out to gingerly touch it, her fingertip brushing against his forever damaged skin. 

"When she tried to kill me," Will said, forcing words past the lump in his throat. "She said 'it sucks it turned out this way'." He shook his head. "Sucks for me, maybe – I'm the guy with the knife in my gut."

Sydney tilted her head, giving Will a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Will," She whispered. He lowered his shirt, shaking his head. 

"I'm sorry, too, Syd," He busied himself with collecting the spoons, turning away from her and placing them beside the empty carton. When he turned back, he was surprised to find that Sydney had pulled up her pajama top, displaying her own scar. Will stared at it, at her, and then made himself look away, hanging his head. "Sydney," He said, his voice barely audible. "When I read that report, what your mother told you – my heart stopped," He finally met her eyes again, his heart aching as he witnessed a single tear roll down her cheek. "How do you do it? How do you manage to deal with all this? To know the things that you know?"

"I don't manage it," She admitted, the tears coming so easily now that she almost didn't notice they were falling. "Not at night, when I'm alone in bed. I don't manage it at all."

"You don't have to do this alone," Will scooted closer to her. "I care about you so much, Syd. You can share anything with me, call me in here in the middle of the night, I don't care. I'm here for you," He reached out to stroke her cheek, wiping away tears with his thumb.

Sydney turned her face to his, seeking comfort, tears rimming her dark eyes. Will leaned in, cradling her face in his palm, tenderly bringing her lips to meet his own. They kissed gently, sweetly, until Sydney finally raised a hand and lightly pushed against Will's chest. 

"Will," She whispered when his warm lips left her own. "Will, I can't…"

"Syd, I'm sorry," Will replied, lowering his eyes as he pulled away. "I know, it was wrong. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Will," Sydney cut him off, grabbing hold of his hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "It was nice. It was a nice kiss," She sniffed as fresh tears welled, trailing down her pale cheeks. "I can't right now. I'm not saying never. I do care about you, it's just… it's just…" Unable to continue, she squeezed her eyes shut as a sob escaped her throat. 

"Vaughn," Will supplied, the name he spoke filling the intimate space between them. 

Sydney nodded, helpless against her emotions. "I don't know how to let it go…" She cried, lifting a hand to her forehead. "…to let him go."

"Oh, Syd," Will sighed, reaching out to softly stroke her hair. She leaned into his hand, comforted by his touch, her tears coming harder as she allowed the sadness to fill her, to overflow the banks of her soul. Will felt utterly helpless, his heart breaking for her. "Is there anything I can do?"

Sydney reached out to him, grasping his sleeve, biting her bottom lip to swallow a sob so she could speak.

"Will, would it be unfair to you if I asked you to hold me?"

Will smiled. "Not at all."

Sydney pushed back the bed covers and rolled onto her side, settling into the pillow as Will laid down next to her, spooning her tightly, wrapping his arms around her. She pressed one of her hands into his, the other clutching her pillow as she cried, her body shaking with emotion that could no longer be denied. Will simply held on, offering comfort well into the night when Sydney drifted into a dreamless sleep, the well of her tears having finally run dry.

******

A/N: To all my reviewers – you all rock. Seriously. The response has been so incredible, and I appreciate it so much. 

You know, it's a funny thing – the more reviews I get, the faster I write. Hee hee. 


	12. Dropped and Broken

Chapter Twelve: Dropped and Broken

Michael Vaughn did not expect to find things changed as he walked through the door of the home he had shared with Alice; a mere forty-eight hours had passed since he'd last crossed the threshold. Alice had been busy, however, as Vaughn discovered when he turned after removing his keys from the deadbolt, slowly dropping them into his pocket. His eyes scanned the living room, the place where it had all begun to unravel. Packing boxes were everywhere, vestiges of a marriage horribly torn apart by the thing in life Vaughn despised most: untruth.

A series of phone calls had been exchanged in the preceding days. Alice had made plans to move in with her mother; Vaughn had negotiated a lease and secured an apartment just a few doors down from Weiss. Neither situation was entirely ideal, but it was necessary, as were the calls Vaughn made to a lawyer friend of his who knew how to get things done. In a matter of days, the holy union of Alice and Michael Vaughn would be erased, nothing left but bitter memories and the throbbing ache of wasted time.

Vaughn took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeves, meandering through the stacked boxes to find the ones marked with a solid black "M". Alice didn't emerge from the kitchen until he was almost finished, after he'd come back through the front door to claim the last box and a few stray personal items. He was about to the door, on his way back to his loaded down vehicle when she entered the room, her eyes red-rimmed, her face stained with countless tears.

"I think I got everything," Vaughn said quietly, balancing the boxes on his knee as he readjusted his grip. "Thanks for boxing it all up. You didn't have to do that."

"The movers are coming tomorrow," Alice said by way of explanation. "And my friend Angela - she and her husband are subletting – they'll be moving in on Saturday."

Vaughn nodded, avoiding Alice's eyes. For everything she had put him through, it was outside the realm of his being to feel hatred for her. Her tears affected him. For the first time, he felt the sting of regret, the pangs of "what if". Pushing it aside, he cleared his throat.

"Did you get my message, about meeting the lawyer at the courthouse tomorrow?"

Alice nodded, new tears spilling over. She swiped at them with her hand, sniffing them back, forcing herself to be stronger than she felt. "Yes. Eight o'clock. I'll be there." 

"Okay," Vaughn said, quietly stealing a glance at her. She looked fragile and lost, and he forced himself to pull open the door and step out into the hallway. "I guess I'm done, then."

"Michael," His name burst from Alice's lips in desperation as she yanked the door open further, filling the doorway with her palpable grief. "I'm so-"

Vaughn cut her off. He couldn't bear to hear the words again, words that from her lips carried no meaning. "I'll see you tomorrow, Alice." With that, he turned and was gone, grateful when the elevator doors closed and he could no longer hear her cry.

"What do you say we go home, shower, and then go get some huge, fluffy pancakes for breakfast?" Will rubbed his hands together, already anticipating the delicious meal. "With lots of butter and syrup."

"Will!" Sydney laughed out loud, reaching over to playfully shove him. "That totally defeats the purpose of what we just did."

"So what? We'll run another three miles tomorrow," Will smiled, stopping on the sidewalk as Pip bounded over to him, her favorite toy in her mouth. She bit it until it squeaked and dropped it at Will's feet. He picked it up and threw it a few yards away beyond an overgrown hedge; Pip barked excitedly and took off in pursuit.

Sydney sighed contentedly, reaching up to smooth a few stray strands of her chestnut hair back into her messy French braid. The run around the park had been great exercise and an even better release after a week that had proved to be the most stressful of any she'd had since she'd returned. 

Glancing at her watch, Sydney grinned. "I still don't know how you managed to get Kendall to let you take the morning off," She said, watching as Pip came circling back their way, her tail wagging exuberantly.  "In his book, missing morning briefing is a crime punishable by death."

"It was easy," Will shrugged, once again sending Pip to chase down her toy. "I told him you needed some time off."

"Oh, thanks," Sydney rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Drag me into this."

"You and me, Syd," Will elbowed her gently. "We're in this together."

They continued down the sidewalk for another block or so, Pip catching up with them and begging to play again. Will indulged her once more and paused, waiting for her to come back. They were about two blocks from the apartment, walking down streets heavy with single family bungalows and starter homes, the lawns neatly kept, the yards littered with kids' toys and amateur landscaping. 

Nearing the corner where they would turn to head home, Sydney stopped to retie her shoelace. As she stood once again, she glanced toward the street. Will was playing tug-o'-war with Pip, trying in vein to wrestle the chew toy from her teeth, both of them making playful grunting noises. Sydney narrowed her eyes, reaching to tap Will's shoulder.

"Was that there when we came by earlier?" She nodded toward a silver van parked at the curb no more than twenty feet from where they stood.

Will looked up. "Parker's Landscaping," He read the block lettering on the side of the vehicle. "No, I don't think so." Unconcerned, he turned his attention back to the dog, finally freeing the toy and tossing it a few yards away. Pip, following her usual routine, barked and took off. 

Sydney watched the van for a moment longer and then suddenly turned. She scanned the silent, empty yards of the nearby houses, the hair at the back of her neck prickling.

"Will," She said, her voice low. "Where are the landscapers?"

Will glanced at her and then followed her gaze, scanning the surrounding lawns. He shrugged. "I don't know. On a break?"

Together, Will and Sydney glanced back at the van and then made eye contact, both of them thinking the same thing. 

Will instinctively reached into his pocket for his cell phone just as Sydney pushed him hard from behind.

"Will," She commanded fiercely. "Run!"

It was then that it all came apart. Before they could force their bodies into action, the van doors sprang open and two formidable men were upon them. One of them went for Will while the other attempted to wrestle Sydney into submission; it was going to be a battle hard won. She was determined from the outset to put up the fight of her life.

Will didn't have time to react before the blast from a tazer sent him sprawling onto the ground. He cried out in pain as he was zapped again, rendering him momentarily defenseless as he twitched uncontrollably, his face pressed into the cool blades of grass. 

The thug standing over him was about to blast him again when a large black blur swooped in, knocking him to the ground. Pip had transformed from a gentle, playful dog into a thrashing beast, growling angrily as she sank her teeth into the arm of the man who had dared to hurt her beloved owner. 

Sydney knew nothing of this; she was locked in a fight of her own, whirling around to land a swift kick squarely in her assailant's chest. He grunted and flew back against the van, rocking it hard. Instead of incapacitating him, as Sydney had hoped, it only made him angrier. He rushed Sydney, tackling her forcefully. When she hit the ground, the wind momentarily left her body in a tortured groan and she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, fighting waves of nausea. She regained control and opened her eyes again just as Pip came from seemingly nowhere, baring her fangs and snarling like a hound of hell. 

The man on top of her screamed as Pip tore into the flesh of his shoulder. He reared back and whirled around, grabbing the dog by her hind legs. 

"NO!" Sydney screamed, scrambling to her feet. It was too late; the sickening crunch of breaking bones assaulted her ears as Pip was rendered lame, her sleek black body dropping to the grass as she howled in pain. Fighting a rush of tears, Sydney flew at the man responsible, her fists exploding in a fury of vengeful blows. 

On the ground, Will began to come around. He raised his head, looking up just in time to see Sydney flattened against the side of the van as one of the men tossed her through the air like a rag doll. Rage and adrenaline coursed through Will's body; he was immediately on his feet.

"You bastard!" He shouted, rushing forward, attempting to come to Sydney's aid. He was stopped cold, however, when he was clotheslined by the second assailant. Falling to the ground with a thud, Will found himself no less than a foot from a crumpled mass of whimpering black fur. He reached towards his injured dog, his breath catching in his throat. "Pip? Girl? Oh, god, no… oh, Pip…"

Will's grief was cut short as he was yanked up by the collar of his shirt, gagging as the material cut into his throat. When he was on his feet, the man who had knocked him down locked his bloody, dog-bitten arm around Will's neck.

"Hey!" The man shouted. Sydney turned from attempting once again to untangle herself from her attacker and gasped at the sight of a gun being held to her friend's head. Will's eyes locked on hers. He tried in vain to communicate with her, to insist that she keep fighting. But if she understood, she had no intention of showing it. 

"Okay, okay," Sydney held up her hands, breathing heavily, her body hurting, her heart beating wildly. She kept her eyes on Will, forcing him to hold her gaze. 

The man at her side picked up the tazer from the ground. Without warning, he shocked Sydney once, and then again as she fell to her knees, shuddering violently, crying out as her body twitched. She dropped forward, resting her head on her hands until she was suddenly jerked backward by her head, the man tugging mercilessly on her French braid.

"Sydney," Will moaned, watching helplessly as she attempted not to display the depth of her agony. 

The assailant wasn't finished. He held Sydney up by her braid, forcing her to remain on her knees as he tossed the tazer to his friend. 

"Hey, watch this," the thug at Will's side cackled. He let go of his grip on Will's neck and suddenly kicked Will in the right knee with incredible force. Will screamed and immediately dropped, sprawling on the grass, twitching in pain. Sydney clamped her eyes shut as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Open your eyes!" Sydney did was she was told, the tug on her braid excruciating. 

Will lay on the grass, gasping quietly. His torture was complete when the man standing over him zapped him once, twice and again with the tazer, laughing maniacally as Will's body convulsed, writhing with pain and uncontrollable terror. Sydney released a sob, unable to contain her emotion. Her physical torture was bearable; watching her best friend go through it was not.

One last shock was all it took to put Will out completely. He looked at Sydney once more before his eyes closed and he slumped into the grass.  

"Will!" Sydney sobbed, trying to pitch forward, trying to reach out to him. A hard yank on her braid brought her painfully back to the predicament at hand; she wondered for a moment if this was it. The idea of death danced unabated through her mind and she closed her eyes to it, the haunting images turning her stomach, making her gag. 

"Enough!" A voice sounded behind her as the van door slid open. "If you seriously harm her, you'll pay with your lives."

Sydney's mind screamed the impossible: _Sark!_

Sydney was pulled harshly to her feet. A blindfold made of rough cloth was bound around her eyes, hard plastic handcuffs snapped around her wrists. 

"Secure her hands in front," Sark directed. "I want to keep an eye on them at all times. Agent Bristow is quite a resourceful girl."

Sydney whimpered as the handcuffs were tightened, cutting into her wrists. She was shoved forcefully into the van, made to lay face up on the floor, unidentifiable objects beneath her making comfort impossibility. 

"Time to take a nap, now, Sydney," Sark's voice loomed above her as the van doors closed, the vehicle's engine roaring to life. A pinch in her arm was followed by a spreading warmth that encapsulated her body, fogging her mind until everything faded blissfully to black.

More than fifteen minutes passed before Will regained consciousness, his eyes fluttering open as he became aware of a throbbing pain in his right knee. His face pressed to the grass, an insect buzzing around his ear, he gulped in a few deep breaths so quickly that he coughed, his body aching with the effort.

Slowly lifting his head from the ground, Will blinked hard, attempting to clear his mind. As reality slammed home, reminding him of the horror in which he had been an unwilling participant, he gasped, his eyes settling on the pitiful shape of his dog. Pip, her back legs useless, had dragged herself over to Will's side, coming to rest with her head on his outstretched hand. Withdrawing it from beneath her, Will was relieved when she gazed up at him, her eyes glassy, her breathing ragged.

"It's okay, girl," Will said soothingly, gently touching Pip's head. He attempted then to push himself upright, but tremendous pain in his knee forced him back down, grasping blades of grass between his fingers as he struggled to keep his stomach from churning. Breathing deeply, Will glanced up and half-smiled at the sight of his cell phone. It was laying in the grass just inches from his left hand.

Seizing it quickly, Will dialed the number he had memorized only days before and waited through three infinitely long rings before someone picked up. "This is Will Tippin," He nearly shouted into the phone. "Security clearance 22-04-74. This is an emergency – I need Jack Bristow _right now_!"

"Well, that didn't take long," Alice said, sounding slightly surprised as she and Vaughn exited the elevator, stepping into the lobby of the courthouse, their footsteps echoing off the marble tile and large, elegant columns near the front entrance. 

"No, it didn't," Vaughn replied, for lack of anything better to say. He didn't know what else he could say; there were no words, no casual sentiments to sum up the way he felt now that his marriage was no more.

"I didn't realize an annulment went so quickly," Alice prattled on, nervously speaking the first words that came to mind. She had been struggling with her emotions for the better part of an hour, starting shortly after she'd arrived and realized there would be no turning back.

Vaughn simply nodded, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, avoiding Alice's eyes. The stood and faced each other for a moment, both of them uncertain of everything except what had just taken place in a judge's chambers two floors above where they now stood.

Alice drew in a shaky breath, attempting a smile. "Well," She said, meeting Vaughn's eyes as he glanced her way. "I guess this is it, then-" She couldn't finish, her voice choked by a sob that rushed from her throat at the same moment that tears sprang to her eyes. She lifted a hand to her mouth. "Excuse me," She managed before turning to rush into the nearby restroom, leaving Vaughn standing alone and feeling very unsettled.

Raking a hand through his hair, Vaughn was relieved when his cell phone rang, setting him free from the regret that had begun creeping up on the edges of his mind. He answered briskly, momentarily cheered to hear Weiss's voice.

"Vaughn, are you sitting down?"

"No," Vaughn smiled, certain he was about to hear another 'I just ran into a hot Hollywood star at Starbucks' story. "Why?"

"I don't know if I should tell you this over the phone."

"C'mon, man," Vaughn chuckled. "Just come out with it. Was it Jennifer Aniston? No, wait, maybe it was Julia Roberts."

"Mike, Syd's gone."

Vaughn felt as if someone had slugged him in the gut. For a moment, he couldn't breath and fought the urge to double over. "Wh-what? Tell me you're kidding."

Weiss's serious tone let him know this was not a joke. "Jack just got the call from Will. Two guys, a van… she's been taken."

An eerie calm overcame Vaughn as he felt himself snap immediately into a professional state of mind. "How long ago?"

"Thirty minutes, tops. Will was blacked out for a while, but he's pretty certain on the time," Weiss replied. "Everybody's here, at the ops center. We're just waiting for Kendall's directive."

"Has the tracking device been activated?" Vaughn began pacing, his mind hurtling through possibilities and protocol. 

"Not yet."

Vaughn sighed. "Okay, that's not good," He lamented. "Is the tactical team assembling?  What's being done?"

"The tactical team is standing by, Mike, and we're on it," Weiss assured him. "I told Jack there was no way they could go without me and you."

Vaughn took a deep breath, fighting a wave of panic as his logic folded to images he tried desperately to block out. "Okay, I'm on my way. Don't let anyone leave without me. There's no way I'm letting Sydney go this time. No way in hell."

"I knew you'd feel that way," Weiss concluded. "Get here fast, man."

"I'll be there in ten," Vaughn ended the call and quickly dropped his cell phone in his pocket. He turned quickly and stopped cold when he came face to face with Alice, her red-rimmed eyes wide and unblinking. 

"Michael?" She questioned, her voice hollow. "What was that all about?"

Vaughn was frozen, his mouth wide open as he wondered exactly how much Alice had overheard. It had never been against protocol for him to tell her that he worked for the CIA, although certain aspects of the job would have been off limits to discuss. He had avoided the whole conflict entirely, however, by never telling her more than that he worked in the foreign relations division of the State Department. 

Once again, truth had revealed itself to them in a shocking display of reality.

"Michael," Alice prodded, narrowing her eyes. "Tracking device? Tactical team? What were you talking about?"

"Alice," Vaughn took her elbow and led her into a corner by the bank of elevators. "It's just a work thing, that's all."

Alice looked around, troubled by Vaughn's sudden desire for privacy. "A work thing?" She questioned, perplexed. "Michael, you work for the State Department."

Impatient with her questioning, the urgency of the situation at the ops center weighing heavy on his mind, anger flashed in Vaughn's eyes. "What do you think I do for the State Department, Alice?" He snapped. Alice gasped, wounded by his tone. He hung his head, sighing. "I'm sorry," He said quietly. Meeting her eyes again, he confessed, his voice low. "I'm an officer of the CIA."

Alice's eyes were as wide as saucers as she raised a hand to her throat. "The CIA?" She echoed, her voice a whisper. "Like, with spies?" When Vaughn nodded in affirmation, Alice fought nobly against a fresh rush of tears. "Michael," She breathed. "There's so much I don't know about you."

Vaughn met her eyes. "The feeling is mutual," He said darkly.

Alice drew back from him, looking away. His words had stung, and he rushed to apologize. Alice cut him off with the wave of her hand. "No," She said strongly. "I deserved that." Brushing tears from her cheeks, she attempted a smile. "And you, Michael – you deserve to be happy."

It was the first moment of honesty they had shared in several days. Vaughn reached for her hands, slipping his wedding band from his pocket and pressing it into her palm. 

"Take care of yourself, Alice," He said sincerely. He leaned in to lightly kiss her forehead, and she inhaled sharply, biting her lip as she fought to stay in control. When Vaughn pulled back, he had his car keys in his hand. "I can take you home, if you'd like."

"No," Alice shook her head, smiling faintly. "I'll be okay. You go save the world."

Sydney awoke with a start and coughed violently, her sides aching with bruises, evidence of a battle hard fought and lost. Her tongue felt like sandpaper as she attempted to swallow, her throat raw and pleading for hydration. 

As reality cut through the receding darkness in her mind, Sydney forced herself to remain calm. Taking deep breaths, she quickly assessed the situation as she found herself in it, grateful that she was now lying flat on her back, nothing beneath her but a coarse carpet. Her elbows rubbed against it as she tried to alleviate the ache in her bound wrists, wincing as the plastic used to secure them cut further into her skin.

Blocking out the sound of her own heartbeat that pounded mercilessly in her ears, Sydney strained to hear noise, any noise that would help her identify where she was. Somewhere to her left, she heard the steady, rhythmic clack of fingers on a computer keyboard. She also detected a low hum that seemed to surround her, followed shortly by a mechanical whirring. Sydney was jarred suddenly, the whole earth seeming to lurch beneath her. 

Drawing in a sharp breath, the realization struck her that she was on an airplane; the landing gear had just been lowered and the aircraft seemed to be slowing. Sydney was about to lift her hands to her eyes to try to raise an edge of the blindfold when another coughing fit consumed her. She rolled onto her side, her nose bumping hard against the interior wall of the aircraft. She brought her hands to her throat, trying to catch her breath. It was then, as her fingers grazed against it, she remembered the gift Marshall had given her two days before.

Sydney grasped the silver heart pendant that hung on a chain around her neck. It took all of her strength not to cry out as she maneuvered her wrists so she could grip the pendant and the clasp by which it was attached. Carefully, she rotated the heart 180 degrees and then gripped it tightly, prying it apart. A small, white capsule dropped out and into her hand; she concealed it in her fist and closed the pendant, dropping it back against her neck.

Forcing herself to cough yet again, Sydney lifted her hands to her mouth and slid the capsule under her tongue. It was bitter, and she nearly gagged, her face contorting beneath the tightly wrapped blindfold.

"Water," She forced the word from her mouth, her strained voice unrecognizable. "Please," She pleaded, hoping someone was nearby to hear her. "I need water."

Hearing footsteps on the carpet, Sydney relaxed against the floor just as a bottle of water was placed next to her lips. She drank quickly, allowing the pill to be washed down her throat, sputtering slightly as she swallowed too much. The water was taken away, and she coughed again, raising her hands to her mouth to wipe the liquid from her lips. 

As the pill settled in her stomach, Sydney let out a deep breath. She hoped she had taken it in enough time to stop her downward spiral into a world without time, a world without memories. So far she could recall all that had happened to her, and she held onto it, determined not to lose herself again.

Suddenly, a hand was on her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her t-shirt. Sydney fidgeted, knowing that the pinch of the syringe was soon to follow. 

"No," She moaned as the needle penetrated her skin. In a matter of moments, she was rendered defenseless as once again the spreading warmth lulled her into darkness.

Sitting in the conference room, spinning an empty plastic water bottle on the tabletop, Vaughn exhaled deeply. It seemed he had done nothing for the last few hours but stare at the clock and watch the seconds tick by in agonizing slow motion. He and Weiss were posed and ready, their tactical gear in a car downstairs. They were simply waiting for the word, waiting for any signal that would give them a clue about where Sydney had been taken.

Frustrated, Vaughn grabbed the water bottle and tossed it toward the door just as it opened and Weiss appeared, dodging the flying object in time to avoid being hit.

"Hey," He said, wide-eyed. "Save the violence for the op, will ya?"

"Any word yet?" Vaughn glanced over at him, knowing by the look on Weiss's face what the answer would be. 

"Nothing," Weiss came over to the table and took a seat across from Vaughn. "The plane is gassed and ready to go. The rest of the unit is on stand-by. It's just a waiting game right now."

"I'm not good at waiting."

"I noticed," Weiss hid a smile, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. "Hey, how'd it go this morning?" He asked, desperate for any subject other than the one at hand.

"Fine," Vaughn replied, a shadow crossing his face. "Alice was, you know," His voice trailed off as he slipped into his memory, the image of her tears unsettling him further. "It was hard. But it's for the best. We both know that."

"I didn't think you could get annulments so quickly," Weiss mused, balling up a piece of paper before batting it around between his hands. He sighed, watching as the makeshift yellow ball slid across the slick tabletop. "I just talked to Will. He called in from the hospital to see how things are going."

"Yeah?" Vaughn looked up, reaching over to steal Weiss's toy. They began to knock it back and forth, avoiding each other's eyes. The weight of the world seemed to be upon them, and they relished any chance for distraction. "How is he?"

"His knee is messed up," Weiss sighed. "A pretty bad sprain. He thinks the doctor might cast it, just to be sure," He glanced up at the clock on the wall, then back at the ball as it skittered past him. "He wanted to know how Jack is doing."

Vaughn's eyes widened. "Now there's a loaded question."

"I can't tell you anything, Jack," Irina stood at the glass, her arms crossed over her chest. "I haven't spent any time with Arvin in the last few weeks, not since I helped Sydney escape. He could be back in Madagascar, or still in Hong Kong."

"We have intel that suggests he may be in southern Europe," Jack stood before the cell, his hands on the metal window joints, his face drawn and weary. His eyes told stories he couldn't hide; he was desperate to find his daughter, to keep her from vanishing yet again. "Where has he been in southern Europe?"

Irina turned away from the glass, the pain in Jack's eyes affecting her far too deeply. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her mind working quickly. "Italy. Rome, Tuscany. I already gave you everything I have. Beyond that, I don't know, Jack. I swear it."

Jack yanked his hands back, fighting the urge to pound a fist against the glass. He turned away from Irina, struggling against his anger, trying to prevent it from giving way to the fathomless emotions he dared not let this woman witness. 

Jack was pulled from his dark thoughts as the secure door at the end of the prison corridor opened and Marshall entered, his footsteps heavy on the stone floor. 

"Jack!" He called out, rushing to Jack's side. He stopped short, correcting himself, stumbling over his words. "Uh, Mr. Bristow. Or Agent Bristow. Which do you prefer, because really, I could go with either, but not both, of course, because that would be, well, Mr. Agent Bristow just sounds dumb-"

Simultaneously, Irina and Jack shouted, "Marshall!"

"Whoa," Marshall drew back, eyes wide, hands in the air. "Stereo! That was kinda cool, uhm," He gulped when he met Jack's smoldering eyes. "Anyway, uh, the tracking device? It was activated."

"Jack," Irina was suddenly at the glass again, her hands pressed to it, her fingers splayed as she met his eyes. "Let me go."

"What? No!"

"Think about it. Arvin doesn't know that I'm in your custody. I could go to him, pledge my allegiance, be let back inside. And then once I'm there, I can make sure Sydney is safe and lead you right to Sloane," Irina's eyes her wide, hopeful. "Please, Jack. I can do this."

"How do I know this isn't just a ploy to get out?" Jack's eyes narrowed, his expression hard. "If this turns out to be like Panama, Kendall will be happy to execute me in your place."

Irina shook her head vigorously. "I swear it, Jack," She lifted a finger to her chest and drew an imaginary "X" across her heart. "On Sydney's life, I swear it."

Jack sighed and hung his head. "If Sloane suspects that you're working with us, he won't hesitate to kill you."

Irina paused, drawing in a deep breath. "Either way, Jack, I'm dead," She said with painful honesty. "And I'd rather die out there, protecting our daughter, than on some sterile gurney with a needle in my arm," She pressed her hands to the glass once more, her face upturned to Jack's, her eyes begging him in ways her words could not. "Jack, please."

Jack exhaled deeply. With one glance back at Irina, he turned to the armed guard at the cell door. 

"Let her out."

******

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is faithful to read and review. I learn so much from you, and I appreciate you sharing your opinions. Please, do it again - let me know if I've done my job or how you think it could be better. 

"Operators standing by… hello?"  (I love Marshall.)   :-)


	13. Truth Shall Set You Free

Chapter Thirteen: Truth Shall Set You Free

"Sydney, open your eyes."

Her senses assaulted by an unpleasant odor, Sydney's eyes fluttered open as her head snapped back, repelled by the scent. She knocked heavily against the high-backed chair in which she sat before groaning as she tipped her head forward and attempted to lift her hand to rub the spot that now throbbed with pain. Immobile, her hand remained idle as Sydney struggled to focus on it, blinking repeatedly as the fog of imposed sleep slowly lifted from her mind.

Sydney inhaled deeply, her eyes narrowing as she took in and began to understand the sight of her arm in shackles, strapped to the arm of the stiff wooden chair. Shifting her gaze, she looked at her other arm; it was secured, as well. A puzzled look crossed her face as Sydney scanned the length of her body. A strap across her chest, waist and ankles kept her seated, her body uncomfortably upright. Swallowing hard, Sydney forced herself to raise her head.

"That's a good girl," Arvin Sloane smiled. He resealed the bottle of smelling salts and set it on the table next to his chair. "How are you feeling?"

Sydney's eyes went cold, narrowed at the man who sat before her. He looked casual, almost relaxed, in an off-white linen suit, the collar of his pale blue shirt open at his neck. 

"Never better," She said darkly. 

"Glad to hear it," Sloane leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "I'm sorry for the restraints, but I can't risk losing you again," He smiled benevolently. "Imagine my dismay to awake that morning and find you gone. But you don't remember, do you? How well I treated you? How nicely we were getting along?"

"You're insane," Sydney hissed, her eyes aflame.

Sloane's brow furrowed as he clucked his tongue. "Come now," He coaxed soothingly. "Let's not be hostile, Sydney. There's no need for that," He paused, watching her carefully as she struggled to contain her anger. "Our time to talk like this will be brief. I want to ask you some questions before… well, before you don't remember even having this conversation."

Behind her, Sydney could hear something or someone approaching, the sound of wheels on the wooden floor. She stole a glance around the room, surprised to find herself in a lavish study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls. Behind the chair where Sloane now sat was an enormous marble-topped desk; it occupied space in front of an immense window that was shrouded in regal maroon velvet drapery. 

Sydney glanced to her left as Sark suddenly appeared – in a wheelchair. She couldn't help herself; she stared.

"That's not entirely polite," Sark met her eyes as he wheeled himself to Sloane's side, a silver tray on his lap. He placed it on the table next to Sydney's chair; upon it sat a syringe and a glass bottle containing a clear liquid. "Didn't your mother ever instruct you not to stare?"

"My mother-" Sydney stopped short of pointing out what would be painfully obvious to Sark, that her mother had been the one to put him in the wheelchair. Instead, she held her tongue, swallowing the drive to speak. It was best, she felt, to remain mute in the face of calculated provocation. 

"Ah, yes, your mother," Sloane set his hands in his lap, his fingers interlaced, a strange, small smile on his lips. "She contacted me not an hour ago. She's on her way here, to join us. Won't that be nice?"

Sydney's eyes darted to Sloane's, her pulse quickening. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself as her mind ran through a thousand possible explanations. It was possible it was a ploy by the CIA; it was possible her mother had escaped. Sydney was not above believing that anything was possible.

"You have nothing to say about that?" Sloane prompted expectantly.

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Well, you and I both know that up until this morning, your mother was in CIA custody," Sloane replied, delighting in the spark of surprise he saw in Sydney's eyes. "You don't think it was just dumb luck that your father was able to capture her, do you? No, my dear, that was all part of our plan. A plan which, for the most part," He glanced over at Sark. "Went off without a hitch."

Sydney looked from Sloane to Sark and back again. She was utterly confused and unsure what to believe. Every fiber of her being wanted to trust her mother, to put faith in the things she had told her in the CIA holding cell. But something about Sloane's manner, his easy-going re-telling of the events… Sydney's mind flooded with doubt.

"I don't know why your mother let you hold the gun," Sark spoke up, his ice blue eyes showing genuine surprise. "It's a good thing you were half-drugged. I've seen you in action, I know your aim isn't usually so poor."

Sydney shook her head, struggling for clarification. "No. My mother shot you," She said deliberately. "She was helping me escape."

"No, Sydney. I'm afraid I have you to thank for my newest fashion accessory," Sark waved a hand over his chair. "It doesn't go with any of my suits, but thank you, anyway." His sarcasm was crisp, his smile benign. Sydney was reminded of why she despised him as much as she did.

 "You see," Sloane began, leaning forward, his expression earnest. "Your mother released you a little sooner than we had planned, but it's all worked out for the best. Irina allowed herself to be taken into custody, and now she's been able to get information from your father regarding how close, or in this case, how far the CIA is to finding out what exactly I have planned," Sloane smiled again, pointedly meeting Sydney's eyes. "Just as before, your father has played right into her hands. I'm beginning to agree with your mother that Jack Bristow really is a fool."

Sydney's eyes were blazing. She leaned forward as far as her restraints would allow. 

"Go to hell." 

Sloane laughed outright, a deep belly laugh that echoed off the walls. He stood slowly and reached out to stroke Sydney's hair. "All in good time, my dear," He assured her, bending to place a kiss on her forehead. 

Sydney seethed, nearly growling at him as he came near. She closed her eyes to his touch, turning her head away as his lips grazed her skin. 

Sloane walked leisurely to a cabinet across the room and poured himself a drink. After taking a sip, he turned slowly, his eyes dark.

"The only thing we didn't count on was you being returned to active duty quite so soon," He leaned against the cabinet, his arms crossed. "The operation in Nepal didn't go according to plan. My good friend Kudar Mujari ended up dead."

"She told me he was an enemy of yours," Sydney said quietly. "She was going to ask for his help in bringing you down."

Sloane chuckled before draining the glass in his hand. "Is that the story she told you? That's brilliant," He grinned. "Your mother always was a convincing liar."

Sydney inhaled deeply, fighting her building rage. At the moment, she didn't know who she was angrier with – Sloane or her mother. 

"Mr. Sark will see that you're comfortable," Sloane set down his empty glass and came back to Sydney's side, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I have business to attend to, and then I'll return and we'll see what we can do about this attitude of yours," He glanced back at the syringe on the tray just before running a hand through Sydney's hair once again. "Just relax, Sydney. You'll be with me for quite some time – it's best you just accept that." With that, he turned and exited the room, closing the door on his way out.

"How can you stand him?" Sydney snapped at Sark as he wheeled himself closer, stopping no more than a foot from where she sat. 

"I don't think you realize how lucky you are, Sydney," Sark tilted his head, regarding her casually, his lips curled into a smile. "You're going to be a part of something truly amazing. The realization of a destiny."

"When I told Sloane to go to hell? I hope you know I meant you, as well."

"Nice," Sark nodded, amused. His eyes traveled the length of her body and stopped at the heart-shaped pendant at her neck. He leaned forward and touched it, his finger lingering on the polished silver surface. He smirked. "A gift from your CIA boyfriend?"

Sydney returned the smile as her voice dripped with caustic sweetness. "No," She replied. "I picked it up at the Galleria for $12.99. I think they had some left, if you'd like to pick one up for-" She frowned suddenly, tilting her head in mock sympathy. "No, wait. She's dead, isn't she?"

Sark's smile immediately transformed into a look of hatred as he drew back his arm and backhanded Sydney across the face. 

"Shut up!" He commanded fiercely, losing his cool. It was out of character for him to do so, and Sydney was pleased to know she had struck a chord.  

"You surprise me, Sark," Sydney turned her head and spat blood onto the oriental rug bordering her chair. "I didn't think you were capable of the more tender emotions."

"That's the first loss for which I have you to thank," Sark seethed. He wheeled himself backward, knocking against the chair Sloane had occupied. "My legs are the second."

Sydney glowered. "You have Sloane to thank for those losses, not me," She said pointedly. "Look at you. You're like his lapdog, and what do you get for it? Allison is dead and your legs are useless. Why stay loyal to a man who would allow you to become a cripple?"

"I'm not crippled!" Sark shouted defiantly as Sydney fought the urge to smile. She had played right into Sark's insecurities by using his one weakness: vanity. Sark breathed deeply, calming himself as he realized what Sydney was trying to do. "You know," He leaned forward. "I don't have to wait for Sloane to give you that shot. I could do it now."

Sydney nodded toward her bound arms. "Go ahead," She challenged. "It's not like I can fight you off."

Sark was about to speak again when the door opened and Sloane returned, coming to Sark's side. He smiled at Sydney, looking even more at peace than he had before. 

"Sydney, I have good news. Your mother has just arrived."

Crawling on their stomachs, inching forward with their elbows, Vaughn and Weiss nestled among a grove of trees and overgrown bushes. Once in position, Vaughn reached forward to clear away a low-hanging branch before raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

"Alpha Base, this is Boy Scout," He spoke quietly into his comm link. "Derevko has just walked through the front door."

"Copy that, Boy Scout," Jack Bristow keyed his comm, glancing around at the backup agents sitting with him inside the van parked not more than a mile from the Italian villa. "Alpha Team, we have confirmation that Derevko is inside the building."

"You should see this place," Vaughn handed the binoculars to Weiss. "High stone walls, guarded entry. It's a fortress."

"It's amazing what a little blood money will buy," Weiss lifted the binoculars to his eyes and let out a low whistle. "Wow. You wonder why Sloane would want to own something so permanent when he's constantly on the move."

"I wouldn't be so sure that he owns it," Vaughn replied, readjusting the comm in his left ear. "He's probably just borrowing it."

"From who? The mafia?" Weiss scanned the building with the high-powered lenses before switching on his own comm. "Magic Man to Alpha Base. I count three armed guards at the entrance – one at the door, two on the roof."

"Copy that, Magic Man," Jack took a deep breath, his eyes dark. He was conscious not to let his misgivings about Irina's involvement show in his face even as the thoughts played endlessly in his mind. "Alpha Team," He forced himself to stay focused. "Stand by for my signal."

Inside the formidable dwelling, Sydney was trying to remain calm as she heard footsteps on the hardwood behind her. A smirk from Sark gave away what Sydney had already suspected; her mother was approaching.

"Sydney," Sloane appeared beside her, his smile unsettling. "Say hello to your mother."

"Sydney, sweetheart," Irina walked up behind Sloane and smiled lovingly. "How are you?"

Sydney stared up at her mother, her expression hard even as tears pooled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, unwittingly sending them tumbling down her cheeks. 

"I know, darling," Irina reached out to wipe the tears away with her hand. "I've missed you, too."

"Now that we're a big happy family again," Sark interrupted, clearing his throat. "Can we get on with this, please?"

"Patience," Sloane placed a hand on Sark's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I think perhaps we should let mother and daughter get reacquainted. Mr. Sark and I will go see to the arrangements and be sure that everything is in place," He began to walk toward the door and then stopped, turning slowly. "Irina, are our visitors outside?"

Irina raised a finger to her lips to silence Sloane as she pointed to one of her faux diamond earrings. Carefully, she reached up and twisted it before she began to speak. 

Outside in the van, Jack raised a finger to his comm, listening closely. "Stand by. We've got audio."

"Yes, Arvin," Irina nodded, still smiling. "Two teams, one out front and one out back. And a recon van parked about a mile away."

"What the?" An agent sitting next to Jack turned to him with a puzzled expression. "Why is she giving away our location?"

Jack looked stricken, his eyes wide. "Alpha Team, hold steady," He picked up his satellite phone as it began to ring. 

"Jack, this is Kendall," He thundered from his position at the L.A. ops center. "What the hell is Derevko doing?"

"I don't know," Jack admitted, shaking his head, trying desperately to deconstruct her intentions. "This wasn't the plan."

"I realize that," Kendall shouted. "I warned you, Jack. If this gets out of hand-"

"I'll get back to you," Jack slammed down the phone and keyed his comm again. "Alpha Team, be on alert. Signal coming at any time."

"Jack sounds a little weird," Weiss mused, glancing over at Vaughn. "What do you think that means?"

"It means that his ex-wife is inside that fortress with his daughter and all hell is about to break loose," Vaughn kept a vigilant watch through the binoculars. "I think I'd sound a little weird, too."

"When do we leave?" Irina questioned, casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"I'll go up to the roof to make sure the helicopter is prepared to depart," Sark wheeled himself to the door. 

"Stay there," Sloane called after him. "We'll come to you," He turned back to Irina. "It's nice to have you back with us, Irina. I admit, I questioned your loyalty after you released Sydney sooner than we had discussed, but I'm a forgiving man," He shot a glance in Sydney's direction before continuing. "And you've done your job very nicely."

"Thank you for welcoming me back," Irina bowed slightly, an expression of gratitude on her face. "It's a pleasure working with you, Arvin. As always."

Sloane beamed, smiling broadly. He rubbed his hands together and then turned to leave. "I have a few last minute preparations to make. I'll be back momentarily." With that, he was gone, leaving Irina and Sydney alone. 

Irina turned around slowly to face her daughter, the smile returning to her lips. She reached up and twisted the earring again before extending a hand to smooth Sydney's hair back from her forehead.

"Don't touch me," Sydney hissed, jerking her head back. "I don't want anything to do with you," She tried desperately to swallow her tears, squeezing her eyes closed. "I can't believe you did this again, to me, to Dad."

"Sydney, listen to me," Irina grasped Sydney's face in her hands, forcing their eyes to meet. "I've told you before, truth takes time. This will be resolved very soon, and it will all be revealed to you. Please, trust me."

"Trust you?" Sydney demanded, anger flashing in her eyes. "No, Mom. I've made that mistake too many times. I was so stupid in L.A., believing that you wanted to protect me, that you were going to help me defeat Sloane. I can't believe I fell for that!"

"I know it's hard to understand," Irina released Sydney's cheeks and stood up straight, a pained look in her eyes. "But this is all part of a bigger plan, one that will be made known to you very soon-"

"I'm sick of your-" Sydney suddenly stopped short, her eyes catching on Irina's earrings. "Wait, Mom – are you transmitting this? Can Dad hear me? Dad!" Sydney struggled against her restraints, trying to lean forward so her voice would be heard. "Dad! It's all a set-up!" 

"He can't hear you!" Irina shouted over her, laying a hand on Sydney's arm, squeezing her tightly. "I turned the comm off. He can't hear you," She stared meaningfully into Sydney's eyes. "Don't waste your breath."

"Wait," Sydney shook her head. "If it's off now, then it was on…" Her voice trailed off, her face crumpling as tears sprang to her eyes once again. "Mom, I don't understand…"

Irina let go of Sydney's arm as footsteps sounded behind them. Casually, she reached up and turned the earring again before turning around to smile at Sloane as he approached. 

"We're all ready," He nodded. "Now all we need to do is give Sydney the shot and be on our way," He pointed towards the table next to Sydney's chair, the sharp needle of the syringe gleaming in the soft overhead light.

Sydney glanced over at the needle and then up at her mother, a look of panic crossing her face. She was trying desperately to sort all of this out, to make sense of what was happening. Fragments of logic and truth were squeezed out by her fear and frustration; thoughts were coming too quickly for her to decipher what she was seeing, to filter out what was real from what was not.

"Audio back online," Jack pressed the comm in his ear, listening carefully. "What was that? A dropped transmission?" He turned to one of the agents beside him who was monitoring the audio relay from the satellite, watching the grids on a computer screen and adjusting levels on the digital recordings.

"No," He tapped a few keys on his laptop. "It was more like the transmission was turned off for a moment for two. I'm not getting a digital replay on the echo relay." 

Jack's brow furrowed as he continued to listen, intently following the conversation as Irina and Sloane discussed how long the flight would be, how much of something to give to Sydney. Lost in concentration, Jack didn't notice the second agent in the van muttering to himself as he hurriedly shuffled through his belongings, checking pockets of his flak jacket. 

"What's wrong, Baker?" The agent at Jack's side spoke up, glancing over at the frantic man in the corner. 

"Uh," Baker stammered, checking inside his jacket before looking up at Jack, his eyes wide. "I think I misplaced my gun."

"What?" Jack demanded, alarmed. "How do you misplace a gun?"

Baker looked sick, his face pale. "Uh, well," He gulped, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "I had it before Derevko left the van," His voice was weak. "She bumped into me, hard, as I was helping her step out-"

"Alpha Team!" Jack was instantly on his comm. "We have confirmation that Derevko is armed!  Prepare for my signal!"

Weiss leaned up on his elbows as he cocked his assault rifle. "All right, boys," He sang out. "We're stormin' the castle!" He glanced over to find Vaughn staring at him with a tired expression. "What?"

"That was dumb," Vaughn took a swipe at his shoulder. "Don't ever say that again."

"I thought it was cool," Weiss said defensively, frowning. He had no more time to dwell on it, however, as Jack's voice suddenly boomed in his ear. 

"This operation is a go, Alpha Team! Move out!"

Inside the villa, Irina smiled at Sloane. "If you'll allow me, Arvin, I'll give Sydney the injection."

Arvin nodded, waving a hand in Sydney's direction. "Be my guest."

Irina turned and leaned across Sydney, shielding her from Sloane's view. Casually, she reached for the syringe with one hand as she used the other to stealthily unbuckle the restraint on Sydney's right wrist. Sydney stared up at her mother, glancing down at her free hand and then back up again, her eyes widening as Irina pulled back her jacket and lifted the edge of her shirt to reveal the butt of a gun that was tucked into the waistband of her jeans.

Outside, Vaughn and Weiss scrambled through the thick bushes and jogged towards the compound, weapons raised and ready. As they neared the front steps, they took aim at the guards and fired, darting behind a stone outcropping as the guards began to fire back.

When all was clear, they darted out and began to climb the stairs, firing as more guards appeared. Their gunfire was supplemented by agents behind them, the guards at the door falling quickly to the onslaught of bullets. Nearing the entrance, Vaughn and Weiss were leading the charge when another guard suddenly burst through the door, his gun blazing. 

Weiss dove for cover behind a low wall bordering a flowerbed as the gunfire of fellow agents rang out around him. Vaughn fired at the guard, gaining ground when he was suddenly stopped by what felt to be a sledgehammer striking his chest. He stumbled back, desperately trying to keep his footing as he slammed against a brick wall, the low ledge hitting him just below his knees.

Tumbling over the edge, Vaughn was momentarily aware of falling, the wind rushing past him until it all ended in abrupt darkness, the whole of his world fading to black.

"Arvin," Irina said sweetly, slowly turning back around to face him, still using her body to hide Sydney from his sight. "Before I do that," She motioned over her shoulder toward her daughter. "There's one thing I wanted to say to you."

Arvin returned the smile, sliding his hands into his pockets. "What's that?"

Irina's eyes went cold, her expression suddenly hard as she reached beneath her shirt and withdrew the gun. "Say hello to Emily for me." 

In one fluid motion, Sloane pulled his hand from his pocket to reveal a weapon of his own. Before Irina could react, he lifted it to her chest, his lips twisted into an evil snarl. "Tell her yourself," He growled as he fired the gun.

Irina flew back against Sydney's chair, her eyes wide, her mouth open in shock. As she slumped to the floor, she tossed her weapon up into the air. 

Having freed herself from her shackles, Sydney rose to her feet in time to catch the gun in her right hand, place the muzzle between Arvin Sloane's startled eyes, and pull the trigger.

The weapon dropped from Sydney's hand as Sloane's lifeless body hit the floor with a thud. Sydney dropped to her knees, her face collapsing as a tortured groan escaped her throat. She pressed her hands over the gaping wound in her mother's chest, her fingers disappearing beneath a pool of crimson.

"Mom," Sydney moaned, tears rolling down her cheeks, her hair hanging loose as she pitched forward, sobbing. "Mom, please…"

"Sydney," Irina's voice was weak, her eyes half-closed. She clutched at Sydney's hands, prying them from her chest. "The truth…" She gasped. "The truth is… I love you," Irina lifted a hand to Sydney's face and brushed tears from her cheeks. "I've always loved you."

"Mom, stay," Sydney pleaded. "Don't go now. Don't. Not like this," She put her hands on her Irina's face, her palms wet with her mother's blood. "Please, Mom…"

"Sydney…" Irina's eyes closed as her breath caught in her throat. She gasped once more and then was still.

"Mom!" Sydney's anguished cry reverberated off the walls as loud shouts and footsteps sounded in the hallway, growing closer to the room in which she bent over her mother's body, clutching at her mother's shirt. "Mom, no," She collapsed against Irina's body, her tears unstoppable, waves of sobs rushing from her throat. "Mom…"

"Sydney!" Weiss was suddenly at her side, grabbing her arm, pulling her back from Irina's lifeless form. "Sydney, are you all right?" He searched for injuries, uncertain if the blood on her hands was her own. "Are you hurt?"

Sydney allowed Weiss to pull her to her feet as she sobbed quietly, struggling to catch her breath.

"Are you hurt?" Weiss repeated as more agents stormed into the room, stopping short when they stumbled upon the carnage. 

"No," Sydney said quietly. She looked down at her mother, her eyes squeezing shut against the onslaught of fresh tears. "My mother is dead."

Weiss put his arm around Sydney's shoulders. "C'mon," He said gently. "Your dad is waiting outside."

Walking down the long corridor toward the front door, Sydney suddenly stopped, turning to grasp Weiss's jacket between her red-stained fingers. 

"Vaughn," She cried, sniffing as a single tear slipped down her face. "Where's Vaughn?"

Weiss drew back from her, his eyes growing wide. "He was right next to me…" He turned around and scanned the hallway before switching on his comm. "Alpha Base, this is Magic Man. Any word from Boy Scout?" 

Sydney bolted from Weiss's side, pushing past hurried medics, running out the front door. There were agents all around and she looked carefully at each of them, her desperation growing as her eyes fell upon unfamiliar faces. 

"Vaughn!" She called out, reaching the wall bordering the entrance at the top of the wide, stone steps. As she was about to turn around and go back inside, she took a chance and glanced over the edge. "Vaughn!" She screamed, alarmed to see him prone, unmoving, in the grass some ten feet below.  
  


Sydney sprinted down the steps, taking them two at a time. She was instantly at Vaughn's side, kneeling next to him, her hands on his face.  
  


"Vaughn, wake up," She urged breathlessly, tears once again flooding her eyes. "C'mon, Vaughn, please," Sydney's eyes scanned the length of his body, searching for injury. Vaughn's flak jacket bore a telltale hole, and Sydney ripped it open, gasping at the sight of the bullet trapped in his Kevlar vest, right above his heart.  
  


Prying the bullet out with her fingernails, Sydney tossed it aside into the grass and bent over Vaughn's body, her face inches from his, her tears falling softly onto his cheeks.  
  


"Vaughn," She pleaded, her face crumbling, her chin quivering. "Vaughn, please wake up," Stroking his forehead, smoothing back his hair, she leaned in and kissed his cheeks, his soft stubble stinging her lips.  
  


As if awakened by her tender touch, Vaughn's eyelids fluttered open and consciousness came rushing back to him. He found himself gazing into the dark pools of Sydney's eyes as she coaxed him from darkness.   
  


After pressing her lips to his forehead once more, Sydney pulled back, drawing in a sharp breath when she saw Vaughn's wide-open eyes. He studied her face for a moment, witnessing her tears and the pain etched in her lovely face.  
  


"Sydney," Vaughn propped himself up on his elbow, reaching out to her, his palm grazing her cheek as her tears caught on the tips of his fingers. "I love you. I've always loved you."  
  


Before Sydney could think to utter a reply, Vaughn gently slid his hand to the back of her head, his fingers in her hair, and brought her lips to meet his own.

******

A/N: Have I mentioned that my reviewers are the best in the universe?

Well, ya are. Thanks. 


	14. Learning to Believe

Chapter Fourteen: Learning to Believe 

It was cooler that morning than had been predicted. A light rain had fallen overnight; the grass was still damp, the ground soft. Every time she took a step, her heels sunk in; she gave up on trying to tread lightly. There were more important things to think about.

Standing at her father's side, Vaughn's hand resting lightly on her back, Sydney watched as the casket was arranged at the gravesite, the lone bouquet of yellow roses gently adorning the polished silver top. In her hand she held a bloom that had fallen; rolling it between her fingers, a single thorn pricked her skin enough to hurt but not enough to bleed.

There was no minister, no collection of tearful mourners. The somber men from the funeral home had done their job and gone on, the wheels of the hearse churning up gravel as it retreated down the twisting path leading out of the cemetery. All that remained was the small group huddled at the graveside, silent in the hazy morning sunlight.

Sensing that his presence had suddenly become intrusive, Vaughn dropped his hand from Sydney's back and slipped away, walking across the muddy earth to the place where his car was parked a few yards away. Reaching it, he turned, watching quietly as Sydney and Jack embraced as they waited for the groundskeepers to begin lowering the casket into the ground.

"Hey," Vaughn greeted Will as he emerged from Jack's car.

"Hey," Will echoed, limping as he approached. 

"Nice cane," Vaughn nodded toward Will's silver-tipped walking stick. It shone in the sunlight, the polished mahogany finish gleaming as he came to Vaughn's side. 

"It was a gift," Will smiled faintly. "From Jack," He looked at the ground, his smile giving way to a frown. "For everything I did for Syd."

Vaughn was quick to encourage him, sensing his regret. "You did all you could," He said. "And I know Sydney is grateful."

"Yeah," Will lifted his eyes to gaze at her. "Although it never feels like enough."

They fell silent, waiting patiently as father and daughter paid their last respects, hugging once more before turning to cross the sodden grass. They were halfway to the cars when Sydney suddenly stopped and turned, unable to go further until she'd taken one last look at the place where her mother was laid to rest.

"Sydney?" Jack asked cautiously, searching her face. 

A single tear emerged from beneath the edge of her dark sunglasses. "She's really dead," She breathed, lifting her hand to wipe the moisture from her cheek. "My mother's really gone."

"Yes," Jack said, unable to find words better suited for a reply. He lifted a hand to squeeze Sydney's arm, touching her carefully as if afraid she might break.

"I believed it for twenty-two years," Sydney crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself, clutching the rose in her left hand. "You'd think it'd be easy to believe it again. But I'm having trouble with it, Dad."

"You weren't ready to let her go again so soon," Jack said, his voice soft. "She was just starting to prove herself to you."

"Yeah," Sydney let out a shaky breath. "I wish I'd had a chance to do the same."

Jack didn't hesitate to pull Sydney into his arms again. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, tears squeezing out beneath her lowered eyelids. They remained this way for a minute or two, each deriding comfort from the embrace. When they parted, they spent a moment gazing at the casket until it disappeared from view, the workmen lowering it into the ground.

"Sydney, I should apologize to you," Jack cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "There were many times when I tried to keep you from your mother, to protect you from danger, real and imagined. I feel now that I may have stolen time from you, time that you needed, that you deserved, to spend with her. I'm sorry."  
  
"Dad," Sydney reached out and grasped his arm, her touch light but meaningful. "Mom stole that time, not you. When she left, in Panama, she had to have known at least some of what Sloane was planning. She knew how he felt about the prophecy. She could have chosen to stay here, to make herself available to me, but she didn't."  
  
Jack shook his head, his brow wrinkled. "Even so, I knew your mother in ways that you didn't, in ways that I kept you from knowing. I'm troubled by that," He admitted quietly.   
  
Sydney smiled gratefully. "Dad," She said. "She was far from perfect. I know enough about her now not to idealize her," Her face darkened as she looked away from her father. "There is one thing I'm struggling with, though."  
  
Concerned, Jack rested his hand comfortingly on Sydney's shoulder. "What's that?"  
  
Sydney bit her lip, a vain attempt to hold back tears. "How do you wrap your head around it when someone gives their life for you?" She looked up at her father, searching for an answer. "How do you even draw your next breath feeling worthy of that?" 

"You're lookin' good, Will," Sydney attempted a warm smile as she and her father approached, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. 

"Thanks, Syd. So are you," Will accepted her into his arms as she came to him, her chin quivering, fresh tears dotting her face.

"I'm so sorry, Will," She sighed, pulling back from him. She glanced down at his leg, his knee wrapped tightly in bandages and secured with an immobilizing brace.

"Hey, I told you yesterday, you have no reason to feel sorry," Will reached out to lift her chin so he could look into her eyes. "Besides, Pip and I are perfect companions, now. We're both recovering at about the same pace."

"Can I help you to the car?" Jack offered an elbow to Will, but he shook his head.

"No, thank you. I need to do it myself," He grimaced. It took him a moment to get his rhythm back, but after a few tentative steps he made it easily to the car and slid into the passenger seat. He and Sydney called out goodbyes just before Jack closed the car door and came back to Sydney's side.

"Dad," Sydney turned to him. "If you don't mind, I'm going to ride home with Vaughn," She glanced from her father to Vaughn and then back again. "Unless you'd like me to come by your house, you know…"

"Go with Vaughn," Jack told her, smiling at Vaughn and then at his daughter. "I'm thinking I might visit with Will for a while, see if he wants to get something to eat."

Sydney smiled broadly. "I know he'd like that."

"Vaughn," Jack reached out to shake the younger man's hand before leaning into place a kiss on Sydney's cheek. He said goodbye to both of them and then walked back to his car, pulling on a pair of dark sunglasses before he slid behind the wheel. 

Vaughn and Sydney watched the car leave before turning to each other with shy smiles. 

It had been a week since Sydney's life had been spared, seven days since Irina's had been taken. For Sydney, the time had been full of debriefings, endless piles of reports, meetings and daily sessions with Dr. Barnett. It had happened so quickly, one thing piled on top of the next, that all of it remained a blur in Sydney's mind. All of it except for the evening she returned, the night she was ushered hurriedly to med services - the night that Vaughn never left her side.  
  
They had talked until their voices tired and grew hoarse. Vaughn explained things, telling Sydney about Alice, about the end of his marriage. He confessed his true feelings, how his heart had never left her, how he'd ached with longing for her everyday since she'd returned. And then he held her as she cried, tears for time and a mother lost dampening his shoulder and mingling with his own.  
  
As the clock on the wall crept past two a.m., Sydney grew weary and unable to fight off sleep. Vaughn held her hand as she laid on the familiar gurney, her face turned toward his as he sat in a chair beside her.  
  
The last words she spoke before drifting off were of the importance of time and the fruitlessness of rushing it, of trying to squeeze too many good experiences into too small of a space.  
  
"It's too precious to skip past any of it," She had said, her eyelids half-closed, her voice a mix of impending sleep and cried-out tears. "I don't want to hurry things, Vaughn. We have a lifetime. Let's take it slow and enjoy every second."  
  
And so they had agreed to take things slow, to go back to the beginning of their relationship and start again rather than trying to pick things up where they'd left off what seemed like forever ago.  
  
That first week, once Sydney had been released from med services, she and Vaughn had spoken every night on the phone and shared smiles across the table during morning briefing. The fledgling relationship was uncertain at times and downright awkward at others. But to Sydney, it felt right, and the hope of things to come kept her on course during the difficult days leading up to Irina's burial.  
  
Sitting beside her as they left the cemetery, Vaughn stole glances at Sydney as he guided the car onto the main road. She was quiet, studying the rose in her hand, gently peeling back the butter yellow petals. Vaughn tried to read her thoughts from the expression on her face, but as usual, she was a blank slate.  
  
Turning his eyes back to the road, Vaughn tried to remember how it felt to bury a parent. He'd been so young when his father had died, and the circumstances had been far different. Vaughn knew he was out of his league trying to gauge Sydney's emotions. She had the benefit of adulthood to put her feelings into perspective, not to mention having been exposed to both Laura Bristow, the wife and mother, and Irina Derevko, the chameleon-like KGB assassin.  
  
Vaughn's head hurt; he gave up trying to guess what was going through Sydney's mind. He stole another glance at her.  
  
"Syd," His voice was quiet. "Are you okay?"  
  
Sydney didn't look up, smiling faintly as she curled the rose bloom in her fist, pushing the petals inward, stopping short of crushing them. She slowly opened her hand again and laid the flower in her lap, catching a stray petal between her thumb and forefinger.  
  
"I have this vivid memory, of my mother," She began, lifting the petal to her chin, dancing it lightly across her skin. "It was my first day of kindergarten. There was a girl, in my class, her name was Rachel. I had buck teeth back then-"   
  
Vaughn made a sound that was close to laughter and Sydney lightly smacked his arm.   
  
"Hey - it's a traumatic thing for a kid," She explained before patiently returning to her memory. "Anyway, my mom had put my hair up in pigtails that day, and Rachel said they were my rabbit ears to go with my rabbit teeth. She called me 'Bunny Face' the whole day."  
  
"Bunny Face?" Vaughn said incredulously. "She called you Bunny Face."  
  
"Yes," Sydney nodded. "And when you're in kindergarten, that's a terrible insult."  
  
"Can I call you that now?"  
  
"No! Can I finish, please?"  
  
"Sorry. Go ahead."  
  
"Thank you," Sydney drew in a deep breath, sobering as she settled back into her seat, watching out the window at the world as they passed by. "I came home from school in tears. Of course I couldn't hide it from my mother - she made me tell her what happened. I remember the flash of indignation on her face as she hugged me and said, 'No one treats my Sydney like that'. Next thing I know, she's on the phone and then there's a knock on the front door. My mother opens it and there's Rachel and her mother. Rachel apologized and we spent the rest of the day playing together. We became the best of friends."  
  
Vaughn was silent as Sydney sniffed quietly, wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.  
  
"I'll never forget that," Sydney breathed. "That fierce look in her eyes when she said 'No one treats my Sydney like that'."  
  
"And she made sure no one did," Vaughn said kindly, reaching out to slide his fingers through her hair, comforting her with his gentle touch. Sydney leaned into his hand, turning her head until his fingers rested lightly against her cheek. They were sitting at a stoplight, and Vaughn took the opportunity to lean in and tenderly kiss Sydney's lips.  
  
When they parted, she smiled and glanced back out the window.  
  
"Hey," She said as Vaughn turned into a parking lot in front of an unfamiliar apartment complex. "Where are we?"  
  
Vaughn parked the car and pulled the keys from the ignition. "My apartment," He smiled.  "Is that okay? I'd like for you to see my new place."  
  
Sydney smiled and reached for the door handle. "Let's go up," She said gamely, unbuckling her seatbelt. Vaughn nodded, relieved that she didn't mind the momentary detour.   
  
A few minutes later, Vaughn unlocked his front door and pushed it open, allowing Sydney to step inside. She walked a few feet into the living room and looked around, the sparse apartment unfolding before her like a blank canvas. There was no furniture, just a few packing boxes scattered around and one metal folding chair in the corner. On top of that sat an older model boom box, its long silver antenna extending almost to the ceiling.   
  
"So this is where you live?" Sydney stepped beyond the living room and poked her head into the kitchen.  
  
Vaughn followed, nodding. "This is where I live."  
  
Sydney turned to him, grinning. "I love it."  
  
Vaughn laughed outright as he shrugged off his suit coat. "There's not much to love right now," He admitted. "I haven't had any time to buy anything."  
  
He started down the hallway toward his bedroom, Sydney following close behind. When she reached the doorway, she stopped, her eyes taking in the small space.   
  
Against the far wall under the window was a single mattress and box spring on a cheap metal frame. The only other item in the room was a dresser drawer, on the floor in the corner by the closet. It was full of Vaughn's socks, boxer shorts and t-shirts.  
  
As Vaughn stood at the closet, hanging up his suit coat, Sydney slowly approached the drawer and kneeled down in front of it, studying it closely. Her chin quivered as she looked up into Vaughn's eyes.  
  
"That's my drawer," Her voice was quiet, almost reverent. "I can't believe you kept my drawer."  
  
"It's my drawer, actually," Vaughn replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You gave it to me, remember?"  
  
Sydney slowly rose to her feet, sighing deeply. "I suppose now you'll want the dresser that goes with it," She turned to him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, her lips curling into a grin.  
  
"Only if you come with it, too," Vaughn let the sentence slip out and hang in the air as he turned away from her, unbuttoning his white dress shirt. He knew they had agreed to take things slow. He didn't need to explain, to add weight to Sydney's burden. He simply let his thoughts be known and left it at that.  
  
"Vaughn," Sydney faltered, bringing her hand to her lip, pinching the flesh between her fingers. Her eyes returned to the drawer, to the clothes within it. "Maybe," was all she could bring herself to say, the only commitment she was willing to make. "Maybe."  
  
"Okay," Vaughn accepted that as he slipped off his slacks before stepping into a pair of comfortable jeans. He completed the look with a deep blue button down shirt and then slipped on his suede jacket before he reached into the closet and pulled out his backpack, filled to nearly overflowing, the material straining at the zipper.  
  
Sydney watched him curiously. "Vaughn," She followed as he went back into the living room and dropped the bag by the front door. "What...?"  
  
"I thought it'd be good for you to get away for a few days," Vaughn said, taking Sydney's hand. "I know it'd be good for me."  
  
Her curiosity piqued, she smiled suspiciously. "Get away where?" Vaughn leaned in and whispered in her ear. Her eyes grew wide, her jaw dropping. "Really? But... I don't have a bag packed."  
  
Vaughn picked up his backpack with his free hand and slung it on his shoulder before reaching for the apartment door. "I know," He nodded, smiling quietly. "I was thinking we could go do something about that."  
  
Sydney started to walk out the door but stopped, one foot in and one foot out of the apartment. She pressed herself into Vaughn's arms and kissed him deeply. Her smile was bright as they separated, slightly out of breath.  
  
Vaughn grinned. "I'll take that as a yes," He closed the door and locked it behind them. "Oh, yeah, and when we get to your place? I promise this time I'll walk you inside."

Sydney shook free of her denim jacket and dropped it on a chair by the window before plopping down on the bed. Vaughn dropped down next to her, rubbing his hands on his jeans as he looked around the hotel room. It was nicely appointed with rich green carpeting and an enormous king size bed. Sydney leaned back on her hands, running her fingers over the plush coverlet before sighing contentedly.

"So," She smiled, meeting Vaughn's eyes. "Santa Barbara."

"Santa Barbara," Vaughn agreed, nodding. "We finally made it."

"Yeah," Sydney allowed herself a chuckle. "After a two year delay."

Vaughn turned toward her, resting a hand lightly on her thigh. "It was worth the wait," He told her sincerely, with only the trace of a smile. His eyes searched her face, and she sat up, placing both of her hands over his.

"What time is our dinner reservation?"

"Late," Vaughn's voice was muffled as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Sydney's neck. She smiled appreciatively as his mouth traveled the length her collarbone. He lifted a hand to her shoulder and pulled down the strap of her tank top, kissing along her shoulder, his breath hot on her skin.

"Mmm," Sydney pulled back, waiting for him to meet her eyes. "Vaughn, I thought we agreed to take it slow."

"So," Vaughn's voice was husky. "We'll do it slow." 

Sydney felt her heart leap into her throat as her body instantly responded, her skin tingling, aching to be touched. She couldn't speak; a nod granted permission just as Vaughn put his mouth over hers, the force of his kiss speaking volumes of his desire.

Vaughn gently slid further onto the bed, his hands on Sydney's hips as she followed, laying back as he reclined at her side. Trailing his fingers up her body, he was pleased to see how she responded, gasping slightly as he found the edge of her shirt. His hand wandered beneath it as his lips once again found hers, the kiss all at once passionate and gentle, loving and hungry. 

Over the next hour, Sydney and Vaughn took their time relearning the curves and dips of their skin, alternating between making love and tasting and touching each other's bodies until their desires were ignited and satiated slowly and deliberately. In some respects, it was as if time had never passed at all; they remembered how easily their bodies fit together, how perfectly they filled the space within their arms. At the end of it all, exhausted and yet exhilarated, they laid together beneath the sheets, contented and quiet.

Propping up on his elbow, Vaughn ran his fingers over Sydney's face, smiling at her as the dwindling daylight reflected off the walls and cast shadows over the bed. 

"You are so beautiful," He breathed, brushing strands of her hair from her face, smoothing them back onto the pillow beneath her head.

"Hmmm," Sydney moaned, stretching beneath the sheet, sliding her arm around Vaughn's neck. "You know what else is beautiful?"

"What?"

"The sunset," Sydney grinned, her eyes darting to the window. "On the beach."

Vaughn nodded and wasted no time extricating himself from the sheets. He extended a hand to Sydney and helped her crawl out of the bed. They kissed sweetly before parting to freshen up and throw on their clothes before leaving the room, hand in hand.

Walking across the sand, Sydney and Vaughn paused near the water and kicked off their shoes. Bravely, they dipped their toes into the cool ocean water before taking a few steps in, stopping when the foaming surf lapped at their ankles. Turning to each other, they embraced, holding tight as the sun faded further, a blazing orb that seemed to balance on the horizon while making their shadows long and dark on the sand.

Vaughn took Sydney's face in his hands and kissed her once more before burying his face in her hair. "I love you," He whispered, dropping his hands to her waist.

"I love you, too," Sydney replied, slipping her arms around him, kissing his neck. 

They turned their faces toward the dying light, quietly watching as it disappeared, dipping beneath the place where the water met the sky. Vaughn wrapped his arms around Sydney and held her close, silently promising he'd never let go while in other parts of the world, the sun was coming up on a brand new day. 

****** fini ******

A/N: What a long, strange ride it's been. But hey – I had a blast, and I hope you did, too. Please let me know what you think – your opinions, ideas, rants and raves help me become a better writer. I appreciate your thoughts more than you can possibly know.

One last thing… if any of you happened to have read my first complete fic, "A Thousand Oceans", you'll remember that at the end I made available to anyone who was interested a soundtrack of sorts that I had compiled while I was writing. Well, true to my geekdom, I did the same for this fic. So, if you'd like a copy of the list of songs that inspired me, please email me (my email address is available in my profile) and I'd be happy to send it along to you. As a wise reviewer once told me: "Geeks of the world – unite!" 

That's it for me, but hopefully not it for my fics. I need to recover for a while, then hopefully I'll be back… y'all take care.


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